Mudblood Mistress III
by JoseHood
Summary: Sequel to MMI&II. Third year. The lions hate Hermione with a burning passion. An insane blood-supremacist breaks out of Azkaban and targets Hogwarts. Soul sucking demons terrorize her with visions of the past year. But she has a new cat, new friends, and she learns to live with the snakes. AU. Grey!Hermione
1. Muggle Life

**A/N: Hemrione is back!**

 _ **Sequel warning : This is a sequel to **_**Mudblood Mistress I & II** _ **. If you have not read MMI &II I suggest you look to that**_

 **Warning : Lots of warnings. **

**Not the canon HP universe. More on this later.**

 **MMIII will cover all of year 3.**

 **Rating warning : May stray into M from time to time. Language, some violence, etc. Years 4+ will be rated M from the off.**

 **A/N warning** **: Rather large one post-script. Call it my pre-release interview.**

* * *

 **Chapter I**

 **Muggle Life**

Dust filled Hermione's lungs. Every breath was torture. She crawled across the cold, damp stone. Hermione could only see by the pale light of her wand. Something warm and wet covered her palms. She shone her light on her hand. Red, sticky blood dripped down her arms.

Hermione felt her limbs shaking, growing weak. Panting for breath, Hermione raised her wand as high as she could go. Darkness. Only darkness. The walls were closing in on her. The only way was forward. Into the darkness. Hermione gasped a horrid, wheezing cough, and felt something drip onto her eyelid. She brushed her eye with the back of her hand and looked at it in the blueish light. Was that blood? Or was her hand already bloody?

A rock tumbled to the ground behind her. Hermione spun onto her back, pointing her wand into the void. Nothing.

 _Thump. Thump._

Hermione was suddenly incredibly aware of her heart pounding against her chest. Trying to leap out of her.

 _Thump. Thump._

Hermione's breath was short, ragged. A soft rustling sound filled the tunnel. Cloth against rock. It was coming for her.

Hermione pushed herself backwards slowly. Her wand illuminated nothing but black rock. The passage was blocked. Stones were piled high.

 _Ping_.

A rock dinged off another rock somewhere on the other side of the barrier.

Then silence.

Like a blanket thrown across a bed, it settled down slowly, smothering everything it touched. Hermione lowered her shaking wand. Her white socks were stained crimson.

Something moved.

Just on the periphery of her wand-light, a dark shape lurked. With wand outstretched, one hand behind her, Hermione sat up slowly. One step at a time, she pushed herself backwards.

 _Thump. Thump._

Her heart was trying to explode.

Something was there.

Following her.

Something was there.

It lunged.

A hand clamped down on her ankle – a skinless, bloody hand.

It dragged her back across the slippery rock. Hermione kicked and screamed. She tried using magic, but she couldn't think of a single spell. Not one. Her tongue was tied. Her mind was blank.

Hermione was confronted by a charred, gashed face. His golden hair had been burnt off. Blood dripped from the corners of his snarling, rabid mouth. She could see her own terrified face reflected in those rage-filled eyes.

Sticky hands locked around Hermione's neck and squeezed. Hermione flailed her arms against him. Punched his mangled face. Waved her wand at him. Nothing helped. With each second, Hermione's vision darkened. She scratched at his hands, gulping for any bit of air.

He leaned close, blue eyes losing focus, and opened his mouth to speak. A rain of warm blood splattered Hermione's face. She felt the last ounce of energy leave her body. His eyes were now glazed over, but they were still boring into her soul.

A sick, raspy voice escaped his cracked lips.

" _Granger…_ "

Hermione sat bolt upright, heaving in her first breath for what felt like hours. She dove for her pillow, snatching under it for her aspen wand. Heart thumping inside her chest, lungs working like a bellows, she looked around her room.

Pale light had begun filtering in through the curtains. Hermione could see her oak dresser; her school trunk was open on the floor. Books and stacks of newspapers littered the surface of her desk.

No hand.

No face.

No…

No one.

Only Hermione.

She looked at her hands. No blood.

Her heart was still trying to climb Alp D'Huez. Her lungs were on the Tourmalet. Hermione leaned back, but recoiled when she felt cold and wet on her back. Her t-shirt was soaked through. Her floral sheets were damp and clingy. Every inch of Hermione's quivering body was covered in sweat.

The clock read 5:58.

Hermione kicked off the sheets, letting fresh air into her boggy bed. She lay in her puddle of sweat, clutching her wand, until the clock had passed 6:05 and her breathing had returned to normal. She switched on the lamp. Soft golden light sprung to life. Hermione reached for the parchment folded neatly on her bedside table.

Everything was going to be okay, she told herself. Hermione had received an owl from Draco. The magical world beckoned. She was going to be okay.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _Mother and Father have agreed to have you over to the Manor. They said they will send a letter to your parents to confirm the date, but I think they are angling for the last few days of summer._

 _Father wants me to remind you that you will be expected to maintain decorum and that there is a strict dress code in the Manor, but he is just posturing. Think of him as Snape and you'll do fine. He likes to test people the first time he meets them._

 _Mother says she's excited to meet you. She wants to show you around Diagon Alley, so don't get your books early. Something about boys being no fun to shop with…_

 _-Draco_

This was the first contact she had with Draco over the summer. That the letter had come in the middle of August, when Draco had initially proposed the visit in early June, did not surprise Hermione, though she was still disappointed. She suspected that when he said 'I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind' he wasn't being completely honest. Lucius Malfoy didn't get his reputation by inviting Muggle-borns to his home for dinner every other week. But it seemed like Draco had won them over. Now it was her turn.

Hermione had, of course, immediately written back, looking up every few seconds to make sure the Malfoy's owl hadn't flown off.

 _Dear Draco,_

 _That is fantastic! My parents are being difficult, but I can get them to agree. I don't think they are fans of Diagon Alley, so getting my school supplies with you won't be a problem. Summer break has been boring without magic. I can't wait to get back to Hogwarts. Hope to see you soon._

 _-Hermione_

That was three or four days ago now. The letter from the Malfoys hadn't arrived and Hermione was beginning to get worried. Had they changed their mind?

But those thoughts were pushed from her head when she caught a whiff of the stink that she was stewing in. With a wrinkled nose, Hermione pushed herself out of bed. With careful little steps, she made her way down the hall to the bathroom. She flicked on the light before stepping inside. Hermione looked around.

The one word to describe the bathroom was 'white'. Porcelain plumbing, white wood cabinet, white walls. If Hermione was allowed to do magic she probably would have turned everything hot pink just to upset her mother's decidedly dull ambiance. Helen had painted the house _cream_. Because it was _neutral_. Hermione had once asked her mother to paint the house black and gold. Not for Hufflepuff – possibly the house Hermione disliked the most – but for her local football team. But, apparently, "nobody paints their home black and gold".

Hermione closed the door. She poked her wand between the shower curtains, pulling them open and peeking inside. Then she peered under the sink and all the corners of the room. Satisfied, Hermione turned the knob to turn on the shower. She aligned the mat on the floor with the edge of the shower and stuck her hand under the water, waiting for it to heat.

Half a minute later, Hermione pulled her clothes off – her shirt, warm and wet, clinging to her back – and threw them against the cabinet. Instead of a light whoosh on impact, they hit the wood with a more solid thud. Hermione stepped into the hot jet of water and immediately felt better.

Hermione stood there, letting the water wash over her. Every few second, she leaned down to let the jet hit the top of her head and stayed there until the water had penetrated her thick hair and massaged her scalp, dripping deliciously down her neck.

The grime began to rinse away with her nerves. The growing cloud of steam surrounded her like a big, soft, warm comforter on a cold winter's night.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Her parents were sitting at the table drinking coffee when Hermione walked into the kitchen. No matter how early she got up, her parents were always up earlier. Hermione slipped a couple pieces of bread into the toaster and made to get a glass of water.

"An owl flew in through the window," Hermione's mother said, glancing over her mug to the window sill where a white and grey flecked bird hooted. On the table lay a piece of parchment folded into three sections. A letter. An envelope next to it was addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Granger.

"They're quite intelligent," Hermione said as she filled her cup at the sink. "I got a letter a few days ago and the owl brought it to my window."

Hermione's father frowned. "Do you know this… Narcissa Malfoy?"

"I think that's Draco's mother," Hermione took a sip of water.

"Draco?" her mother pursed her lips.

"My _friend_ , mother. I told you about him," then she added, under her breath, "Not that you ever listen…"

"These Malfoys say they are an old wizard family. They've invited you over for a few days," her father continued.

"I know."  
"Your mother and I are just not sure about it."

"Sure about what?" Hermione asked bitterly. "Aren't you always telling me to go find people to go play football with or walk around the neighbourhood by myself? Don't you want me out of the house?"  
"This is different," her father said. "We're… not totally comfortable with you staying at a boy's house for several days. Alone." The toast popped up.

"I'm sure his parents live there, too," Hermione snorted as she began to spread butter on bread.

"That's not what we mean."  
"I can take care of myself."

"You may think that –"

"I _know_ it. If you won't let me, I'll just find a way there on my own." Hermione crossed her arms and stared defiantly at them. "If you want, you can ask to meet Draco's parents," she offered.

Her parents exchanged a long look. "That might be acceptable," her father said after a while.

"Just write a letter back to Mrs. Malfoy, then. The owl will know where to go."

Hermione marched back upstairs with her early breakfast. Her father would request a meeting, but Hermione was sure Mrs. Malfoy wouldn't meet anywhere in the Muggle world. That would mean her parents would need Hermione to get to wherever they needed to go. Hermione would just pack her trunk and leave with Draco whether her parents approved or not.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

France had been a nightmare for Hermione. A waking nightmare to go along with her dreamt nightmares.

She did get to see all the beautiful sights. Tracey was completely right. The Eiffel Tower, Versailles, the Champs-Elysees… Paris was wonderful. The countryside, filled with chateaux's and vineyards, those golden fields and rolling hills, was magnificent. The castles, though nowhere near as large or well-kept as Hogwarts, were very interesting. Hermione even got so see a stage of the Tour de France.

The country was fantastic.

No, the company was a nightmare.

Specifically, her parents.

From day one of summer break all three of them were at a head. Hermione had made it clear that she was a witch, first and foremost, and her parents did not like it. Her mother wanted to immerse Hermione in Muggle culture so that she would "know what she'd be missing". Her father was in a perpetual sour mood because Hermione wouldn't listen to him on anything. She picked up some French specifically so she wouldn't need him to translate for her. Hermione barely spoke a sentence a day to them.

They actually began their vacation in Belgium. Their first stop was Bruges. There, Hermione found a group of young wizards enjoying their summer and began comparing notes on the differences between the French and British education systems (they all attended Beauxbatos in France), but it soon turned into a late night expedition through the city.

That was her first mistake, according to her parents.

She stayed out nearly all night with them. They weren't great company and the language gap was glaring, but Hermione had preferred the company of strangers to going back to the hotel with her parents and listening to Helen drone on about what they were going to see the next day. Hermione returned late at night, fumigated by the teenagers' cigarettes (though Hermione would not let one of them near her lips). After that her parents didn't let her out of their sight.

The next incident had been in Paris. Hermione decided to go looking for the French Ministry of Magic, whether they followed her or not. They chased after her across the city until Hermione succeeded in finding the Ministry.

Her parents were not pleased. Strike two.

The final blow came in the Pyrenees. Hermione's punishment for her indiscretions came in the form of biking up a mountain. A real mountain. Thousands of meters in the air. On a bike. Her father was a bastard.

In response, Hermione crossed the Muggle-repelling ward near Beauxbatons to get a closer look. She had popped out of existence, for all that her parents could see, and refused to return until she had circled the school ('to see it from all angles'). It took nearly two hours.

That was when Daniel and Helen Granger ended their vacation. They took their daughter by the scruff of her neck and marched her all the way back to Watford. They tried to take her wand, too, but Hermione protested vigorously, and they ceased their attempted seizure when the train car wobbled and the lights flickered.

The whole trip had been a disaster.

Weeks later, both sides were still bitter over France, and there hadn't been much time to heal wounds. Her parents were always at work, as usual, and Hermione had barricaded herself in her room with her books. Some of them were her Hogwarts books, but most were textbooks on Muggle sciences or history. Her parents had vetoed any trip to Diagon Alley ("you need to improve your attitude, young lady") and she had already read all of her magic-related books so her only recourses for additional readings were Muggle libraries. Hermione briefly considered taking a bus or train into London and going to Diagon Alley herself. But that required monetary funds, of which Hermione had precious little. She would need money from her parents, and she doubted they would oblige. She even more briefly considered asking Draco for help, but dismissed that. She didn't want him to think she was only friends with him for his money, which couldn't have been further from the truth.

No, Hermione would have to wait until Draco liberated her from her mundane prison.

* * *

 **Sorry, but I have some housekeeping to divulge to you, my faithful readers. Some parts may stray into my ramblings on my work, some may be of some use to you.**

 **Genre/pairings warning : The listed genre is Drama/Friendship, not Romance. I do not wish to deceive anybody so I feel it necessary to make a warning about what this story is actually about as we are beginning to wade into the hormone-addled teenager portion of the story (while it may not end entirely, we are getting to the thick of the schoolhouse drama). While Hermione and Draco are developing a close friendship, this is not a Dramione, nor will it become one. While Hermione will develop romantic relationships, this is not a romance, nor will it become one. Hermione's romantic relationships, while important to her, are not the focus of the story. They can add to the story. They can be crucial to the story. But that does not make them any more important than her relationship with Snape, or Dumbledore, or any other character, nor will her romantic relationships take centre stage at any point. This is about Hermione's journey into a new world. Intricacies of romantic outings and the such aren't really in the highlight reel.**

 **My philosophy on pairings is that they cause more harm than good in any story that is not a stated romance between said pairings. They remove all sense of intrigue or suspense from romantic subplots and can take over more time than they should. As stated in my first A/N of MMI &II, there are no pairings set in stone nor will they be announced ahead of time. This allows for changes down the road as my vision changes and as the characters literally grow up. Any relationships that pop up in the next editions of MM will not necessarily stick. Nor will they all necessarily fail. Teenage relationships are usually frail and mercurial. And any relationship at any point is subject to change. For instance, I won't nix a Molly/Arthur divorce (God knows that family has problems), nor will Harry/Pansy be an absolutely debunked theory. Just because there are no plans for it now does not mean it will not happen – which isn't to say that things will pop up out of nowhere. I'm not going to push characters together if I feel resistance from them. For everything that happens I try to set it up logically and with proper progression, which is a big reason I am completing each year before they go to publishing. So, beware. Be on the lookout. Try to spot things coming. Try to spot things crumbling.**

 **In the end, the story is Hermione's. Not Hermione/xxx's. Each character will have their own motivations. Fleur won't fall in love with Hermione because I want it to happen (I don't). And if she does, they won't stay together for the sake of having them together.**

* * *

 **Canon/AU warning : Everything from books 1-4 will try to stick as much within book canon where Hermione isn't concerned - keeping in mind that Harry isn't a reliable narrator, nor is everything said by other characters 100% the truth. Not a complete guarantee, but a promise to give my all. **

**After year 4, everything is up for grabs. Not labelled AU for nothing. More on the later years below.**

 **If you haven't picked up on it, I'm not a fan of DH. Anything in DH you can pretty much throw out. Or, at least, don't consider it part of the MM universe until it appears here.**

 **Some noteworthy, non-spoiler changes/confirmations that may or may not be important:**

 **Bellatrix is the middle child. Andromeda is the oldest.**

 **Snape does not have the same story as the Prince's Tale. Consequently, neither does Lily.**

 **Dumbledore's history is tailored slightly so his personality has continuity and makes sense (damn you, DH!).**

 **Dorea and Charles are James Potter's parents.**

 **Amortentia is not being studied in the DoM.**

 **The Horcrux mechanics, identity, locations and timeline are not necessarily all the same as canon, so don't think you know more (or know as much as you think) than the characters.**

 **Dean Thomas is full Muggle-born. Cho Chang is halfblood. Blaise Zabini is pureblood. Tracey Davis is halfblood. Patils are pureblood.**

 **Black family birth/death dates may change at my discretion, though I try will try to lock them down ASAP.**

 **My interpretation of AK, Cruciatus and Imperius differs from JKR. Explorations will come in the text as Hermione discovers.**

 **My interpretation of nonverbal magic differs from JKR. Explorations will come in the text.**

 **A bunch of events c. 1973-1982 have been retrofitted. Mostly HBP compliant, but flies in the face of DH.**

 **Many deaths. You've seem one already.**

* * *

 **Plodding plot warning : So this year was a slog. I had to battle through it (still am – as I'm posting this I'd say it's ~95% complete. The rest I'll fill in on a weekly basis). I cut about five chapters from my original outline. There were wide stretched that just didn't need to be there. To be honest, this year is mostly set up for the later years, and I want to get there as fast as I can. The plot of Prisoner of Azkaban doesn't lend itself to a Slytherin Hermione who isn't close to H&R. The history Sirius + Remus + James + Peter isn't all that important to Hermione at this point. She's still just a student. So there is no emotional impetus to the Sirius story for Hermione. And I think I really felt that when writing. I lost the passion. It was easier when Hermione thought she was basilisk target #1. It's a transition year for Hermione and there weren't many relevant markers in JKR's plot for me to hit.**

 **Which makes this hard. Because it is a very important year for her. Hermione hasn't screwed with things enough that everything is different, either. So I'm stuck writing a story of subplots, introductions, and character development that lacks that sense of urgency that other years have. I think everything is interesting and important – I just hope y'all can look past the deficiencies of year three to appreciate the story I'm spinning.**

 **Fortunately, I think I've worked out a very unique segue into year four (which I originally thought was going to be the hardest to make into a solid story) which I am extremely excited about. Year three runs parallel to the original plot – Hermione is there, we see it and things happen around her – and year five begins the large-scale AU separation from the books, but year four will largely skirt JKR's original premise and begins throwing open the doors to my own story lines. It is where I will begin to truly test my own writing and plotting skills. And I'm pumped for it. (Seeing Tom again won't hurt, either)**

 **MMIII is 18 chapters long, coming it at around 50k words. Posting will be scheduled for Fridays. Bonus chapters according to how fast MMIV is written. I need some time realize the scope of the story. At this point I'm planning on going up to MMVIII.**


	2. Meetings

**A/N: MMIII is 18 chapters long, ~50k words, maybe a tad more once I've ironed out that last 5%. I've completed my outline for MMIV this week, and it looks to be 23 chapters in total. There are only two chapters I'm not completely sure I have enough material for, so when I get to them I might combine them to make it 22 chapters, but whatever.**

* * *

 **Chapter II**

 **Meetings**

"So, it's just that little dive in front of the alley?" her father asked, getting out of the car.

"Yes, the Leaky Cauldron," Hermione followed, pulling her trunk out of back seat. They walked down the street in silence and entered the dingy pub. The motley crowd paid them no mind. Hermione walked up to the barkeeper – an old, bald man – with her father following cautiously. "I'm looking for the Malfoys?"

The barman jerked a finger upwards, not looking away from the glass he was polishing.

She turned around and found a staircase. She had crossed halfway across the floor when she felt her trunk tugging on her hand. It had begun floating, hovering in the air, and then started flying away from her. Hermione tried pulling it back, but it slipped from her grip. She watched it glide upwards and onto the second floor balcony, right next to a smirking blonde boy twirling his wand mischievously.

Hermione fought the urge to run up the stairs, and instead chose to ascend with the utmost _decorum_. Draco was still smirking when Hermione walked up to him. "Lost your things, Granger?" he teased.

"You're a git." Hermione gave Draco a good shove, but laughed. A moment later she wrapped him in a tight embrace. Draco stood still, his arms pinned to his side.

When Hermione released him, his cheeks were slightly pink. "Now that we've got that over with…" he said, looking over her shoulder at her father.

"Oh, yeah. Dad, this is Draco."

"Mr. Granger," Draco held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Her father shook it brusquely. "Mr. Malfoy."

"Mr. Malfoy is my father, sir. Call me Draco," he said, taking hold of Hermione's trunk. "My mother has a private room for us." Draco led them around the walkway and into a side room.

Inside sat quite possibly the most sophisticated woman Hermione had ever seen. Her golden blonde hair was tied back in an elegant bun, but several long locks had escaped capture and curled their way down to her shoulders, framing her perfectly symmetrical face. Blue eyes were fixed upon the letter she was writing in decisive, flowing motions. Her wrists were adorned with gems – as were her fingers, her neck and her ears – and she wore a forest green gown which probably would not be inappropriate for a Jane Austen novel.

Draco pulled Hermione's trunk inside and closed the door. Narcissa Malfoy looked up from her letter with a stony stare, then returned to writing. Hermione got the sinking feeling that Malfoy Manor may turn out to be Hogwarts, part two: cold stares and colder shoulders. Mrs. Malfoy reminded her of the detached slate Daphne presented the world, minus the nipping, entertaining wit she sometimes rolled out. God forbid she hid a personality like Pansy under there…

But all of Hermione's fears were abated the second she stood up. Narcissa Malfoy signed her letter with a swoosh and turned to the Grangers, beaming. "Mister Granger, I presume? I'm Narcissa Malfoy." The lady glided over and offered her hand, drooping from the wrist, as if she expected it to be kissed. Fortunately, Hermione's father instead went for a handshake at an odd angle. If Mrs. Malfoy was offended, or even noticed anything out of the ordinary, she didn't show it.

"Nice to meet you," Mr. Granger said.

Now that Hermione was closer, there was no debating it. Mrs. Malfoy was decked out in hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of jewelry. And she wore them like this was just her Wednesday outfit. _She is definitely some sort of princess._

"And you must be Hermione!" Mrs. Malfoy took her by the shoulders and inspected her, smiling. "I've heard so much about you." She pulled Hermione into a light hug. "If Draco's stories are anything to go by, you're destined for great things." She let Hermione go – who looked at a red-faced Draco (who shrugged) – and turned back to Hermione's father. "You must be so very proud of your daughter."

"Oh," Mr. Granger ruffled Hermione's hair. "She has her moments."

"The way she conducted herself last year, inspiring." Mrs. Malfoy smiled down at her.

 _Uh oh._

"Yeah, uh… what?"

 _Shhhhh…_

Mrs. Malfoy's smile wavered a bit. "Didn't she tell you?"

Her father frowned, turning to Hermione. "Tell me _what_ …?

… _iiiiit._

"Uh…" Hermione's mouth decided to stop working.

Mrs. Malfoy looked from Hermione to her father. "Didn't Hermione finish top of the year? Lucius and I expect nothing but the best out of Draco but if what he says is true, Hermione is deserving of that honour."

"Oh," her father nodded. "No, she didn't mention it. But I'm not surprised. Hermione and books are closer than peanut butter and jelly."

"Closer than what?" Mrs. Malfoy smiled politely.

"Uh, never mind." He stood awkwardly for a second. Hermione wanted hide her face. _He just_ had _to go full-Muggle._

Mrs. Malfoy picked up the conversation. "Well, I suppose you'd like to know more about our family. I completely understand your reluctance to send your only child away. I do miss Draco when he isn't at the Manor, and he's quite the handful. I don't know _what_ I'd do to keep a daughter like Hermione around." Mrs. Malfoy was smiling at her again. Hermione felt her face flushing at the praise. It was weird, but in a good way. She glanced at Draco, who was staring off into space with a murderous look on his face. Embarrassing parents transcends all boundaries.

"Draco, why don't you and Hermione take a look around the Alley? If that's okay?"

Her father nodded.

Draco seemed to breathe for the first time in forever and quickly made for the door, with Hermione on his heels.

"Can I interest you in some firewhiskey?"

"Whiskey? Uh, I don't think so. I have to drive back to Watford."

"I see…"

The door shut behind them. Hermione turned to Draco. After a moment, she asked, "What stories about me?"

Draco shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. "The good ones."

"Like?"

"Well, dropping Potter like a stone at the duelling club. The polyjuice thing –"

"You told your _parents_ that?" Hermione gasped.

"Well, yeah."

"Your father is on the Board of Governors! I could be expelled!"

"No, he's not," Draco scuffed the ground with his shoe.

"But you said…"

"After the other governors brought back Dumbledore... he – he resigned in protest."

"Oh…"

"Anyway, let's go." Draco started off down the stairs. "You ever been to Knockturn Alley?"

"No."

"It's great. Some weird shops down there, but awesome."

They hurried to the back courtyard where Draco whipped out his wand and hit the correct bricks to let them in to Diagon Alley. "Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, remembering something. "You used magic – to lift my trunk! It's not school yet. We aren't supposed to use magic."

Draco grinned back at her. "Not supposed to, but how are they going to know I did it when there are all these wizards around?"

Hermione frowned. "The Ministry can't track who casts the spell?"

"They only know that _something_ was cast near us. In Diagon Alley, who's to say it wasn't my mother, or some random guy on the street?"

Her frown only deepened. "So when there are other wizards around, you can use any magic you want?"

"Uh-huh." Draco was smirking.

"Even at home?"

"Yup."

"You're a bastard, Draco," Hermione growled, punching his shoulder.

"Hey, my parents were definitely married–"

"I go my entire summer without using magic, and you can do anything at home?"

He grinned. "It helps that the Manor was built before the Trace was created."

"The Trace?"

"That's how they know when magic happens near you. The Manor has protections. The Ministry can't get their hands in there."

Draco led her down the Diagon Alley. When Gringotts was looming over them, he turned off the main street and down into a shadowy backstreet. It was a lot less crowded, but here and there were strange looking people, even by wizarding standards, and it made Hermione feel ill at ease.

"Not a very bright place," she said, eyeing some of the seedier folks.

"No," he agreed. "But there are some excellent shops around here. Here," Draco pulled her into a dingy looking shop. A little bell on the door dinged. "This is Borgin and Burkes."

It looked like an old antique shop. Smelled like one, too. The floor was cluttered with all sorts of trinkets and memorabilia. Everything seemed to be older than Hermione. There was what looked like a human hand on display in a case.

"Ah… the young Malfoy…" an old man appeared behind the black wood counter. His voice was quiet and coarse. "Will your father be joining us?"

Draco shook his head. "Maybe tomorrow. We're just looking around."

The man, Borgin, Hermione guessed, though maybe Burke, nodded slowly. His eyes drifted from Draco to Hermione and narrowed slightly. "Do I know you?" he asked, leaning over the counter. "A cousin, is she?"

"No," Draco responded. "Hermione's in my year at Hogwarts."

The man tilted his head. He was looking at her like he was appraising an old family heirloom Draco was attempting to sell him. "Are you quite sure?"

"Fairly certain."

The man took another look at Hermione, then sank back behind the counter. "Curious. If there's anything you need…" he slid out of sight into a back office.

"He's a bit creepy," Hermione whispered.

"Yes. But his shop is impressive. Been running for more than a century. There's a lot of history here."

Hermione didn't doubt it. She'd have to carbon date half the stuff to get an accurate estimate of its age. The nearest case displayed a selection of necklaces that could have been worn by Guinevere; a chalice that could be old enough to be the holy grail; a sword that could have been Excalibur. If Merlin was a real wizard, why not the rest of the legend? The place was more museum than shop.

"We should get back to Diagon Alley," Draco said. "Mother wouldn't want us to go too far."

Hermione nodded. The walked back out into Knockturn Alley, up the side street into the shadow of Gringotts, and back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Draco stopped in front of a shop window. On display was what looked like a very expensive broom, all shiny and new. "That's a Firebolt. Everyone's going to be flying one of them at the World Cup."

"It looks… quick."

Draco snorted, putting his hands up to the glass. "Quick? That's the fastest broom in the world."

"If you move any closer to the window you're going to slobber on it," Hermione grinned at him.

He pulled away from the window. "I don't slobber, Granger."

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

Draco stuck his tongue out. "I don't slobber, _Hermione_."

"Whatever. Where to?"

"I don't know…" said Draco, scratching his head.

"Flourish and Blotts?" Hermione smiled.

"No," Draco responded immediately. "We're going in here." He grabbed her by the arm and tugged her inside the Quidditch shop.

"Really? Quidditch?" Hermione complained. The shop had the feel of a football team's official store. Red quaffles were stacked in bins; bludgers were strapped to the ceiling, jerking about; snitches zoomed around in glass cases. Rows upon rows of brooms were lined up on shelves. Hermione hadn't known there that many different types of brooms. Replica Quidditch robes hung on the walls next to flags, pendants, and scarves for what appeared to be every team in Britain. There were even Hogwarts house paraphernalia.

Hermione followed Draco as he perused the wares. She had little interest in any of it. "You got a broom, Hermione?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Why would I need a broom?"

"To fly?" he guessed, taking a closer look at a pair of gloves.

"I don't want to fly. I'm perfectly content being on the ground."

"That's because you've never ridden a broom before," Draco grinned.

"Yes I have." Hermione crossed her arms.

"First year, with Hooch?" he smirked.

"Yes."

Draco pulled what looked like a leather greave off a shelf and measured it against his arm. "You hovered, what, two yards off the ground?"

"That was quite enough for me."

Draco tossed the greave back onto the shelf. " _That_ 's not flying. If you would just try it once, I know you'd love it."

"Humans aren't meant to fly."

He only grinned. "Witches are."

Hermione glared. Quidditch was obviously a scourge on wizarding society. Tainting boys' minds with thoughts of soaring the skies when studying was a far better option. But it wasn't Hermione's job to fix that. Draco, however, was going to need a realignment. Hermione wasn't going to spend another year keeping him on task. With some encouragement, she believed she could make him into a top student. He wasn't lacking intelligence, only motivation. Hermione tucked that thought away. Self-study wasn't the only project on her schedule.

"Well, look at this," Draco drawled, breaking her concentration. He was looking out the store window. "If it isn't the hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

Sure enough, little, scrawny, black haired Potter was standing outside, staring at the Firebolt. "I do wish he was mine," Hermione cooed evilly.

"He's really divine," both of them said together, laughing.

They walked out the door side by side. "Got tired of the Muggles, Potter?" Draco called, sticking his hands in his pockets and approaching the other boy with a swagger.

Potter turned, clearly surprised by their arrival. His eyes flicked from Draco to Hermione. "What are you doing here? Crying to your father to get you a new broom?"

"I'm only here meeting a friend," Draco continued, shrugging. "But you wouldn't know about that, would you? I heard the Weasleys abandoned you for Egypt."

"They went on vacation," Potter tried to say nonchalantly. It didn't come off quite right.

"Yeah. Without you."

"So?"

"Left you to the Muggles, did they?" asked Hermione.

Potter scowled. "That's rich, coming from a Muggle-born."

" _Her_ family buys her proper clothes and feeds her," Draco sneered, eyeing Potter's baggy jeans and oversized shirt.

"You'd think the Weasleys could fit you in with all the rest of their brats in whatever long-distance shipping container they stuffed them it," Hermione snarled. "Or did they take the family car and you didn't want to be strapped onto the roof with Ronald?"

"Oh, I thought they lost that car?" Draco remarked.

"Did they? That's right. Maybe they upgraded to a Muggle bus to fit everyone."

Draco scoffed. "They don't have the money for that, do they Potter? Have you seen their house? It's a wonder it hasn't fallen over yet."

"How's your house-elf, Malfoy?" spat Potter.

Hermione saw his hand shift to a pocket. She moved for her own wand as well.

"Careful, Potter. Wouldn't want a repeat of the duelling club, would we?"  
Potter bristled. "You mean when you wet yourself?"

Hermione's wand was out and a spell on her lips, but it never got out. As Potter raised his own wand, Draco lunged forward and hit him hard across the jaw. Potter fell to the ground, clutching his face.

"Draco!" a clear voice rang out. Mrs. Malfoy was walking briskly towards them, a severe look on her face, with Hermione's father not far behind. Potter sat up, looking furious, and pointed his wand at Draco.

Before Potter could let off a spell, Mrs. Malfoy jabbed her own wand at him and he froze. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Potter insulted Hermione," Draco pointed down at the boy. "And the family."

Mrs. Malfoy contemplated the boy on the ground. "If that's true, I understand. However," she turned to her son with a frown, "I expect in the future you will use your wand, not your fist."

Draco turned red. "Yes, mother."

"As for you," she looked back at Potter, "You should be ashamed – insulting a lady! To think that your father came from a noble house…" she gave a little shake of her head, "I can see that you are where you belong. Come, Draco, Hermione." Mrs. Malfoy ushered them away from Potter – still froze on the ground – her arm around Hermione's shoulder. "I do apologize for that, Mr. Granger. There are bad apples wherever you look."

"Yes, so I've heard," Hermione's father mumbled, looking a bit confused. Hermione looked back at Potter, who was only now released from the freezing spell. He stood, brush off his pants, and gave her a dirty look. The group pulled up at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione's father set her trunk down. "Hermione, I expect you to be on your best behaviour."

"Yes, dad," she nodded, fighting off a smile. Mrs. Malfoy had won.

"No fooling around."

"I don't fool around, dad."

"Very well. I'll see you at Christmas." He brought her into a little hug, kissed the top of her head, and left.

"Would you like to see the Manor, Hermione?" Mrs. Malfoy beamed.

* * *

 **Huh... it's been so long I thought this chapter and the next were part of the same chapter. First impressions of Narcissa? You get more of her in the next couple chapters. And Lucius. Oh boy, I enjoyed writing this part.**

 **Some of you have wondered how long Hermione will be bitchy to her parents. She's about to turn fourteen and not only is there the normal teenage angst "you don't know me!" but her parents _actually_ don't understand. I feel this phase is completely natural and even imperative for a girl so determined to _get away_ from the muggle life her parents represent. Remember, witch who happened to be born to muggles, not the other way round.**

 **And this isn't some OOC phenomenon, either. Canon Hermione spent all of three months with her parents between second and sixth year. She almost never talks about them. She skipped seeing them 5th year because she didn't want to ski - and lies to her them about it. Tell me that this is a girl who wants to be with her family - a girl who doesn't clearly rate the wizarding world much higher than the mundane world she was born in, including her parents. I don't think you can. For heaven's sake, she obliterated their minds and shipped them off to Australia! How much regard for her parents can she really have?**

 **So, yes, Hermione is a bit bitchy to her parents right now. And it might last some time, but exactly how much time she'll actually _spend_ with them, however, is up in the air.**

 **P.S. Mythology gag from chapter 2 of MMI &II: Helen of Troy had one daughter with Menalaus before the whole Paris incident. Mother of the year (or decade?), yeah?**


	3. Malfoy Manor

**Chapter III**

 **Malfoy Manor**

Hermione's feet hit gravel. She stood there for a moment before her legs wobbled and she crashed towards the ground, only to be caught by her arm.

"There you go," said Mrs. Malfoy, pulling her back to her feet. "You're doing quite well."

Hermione coughed heavily, head still spinning.

"Apparation can be very uncomfortable, but it gets better with time." Mrs. Malfoy patted her back. "Welcome to our home."

Looking around, Hermione saw a long gravel driveway, flanked by tall green hedges, leading to a large manor house. It looked like a palace. As they walked up the drive, Mrs. Malfoy hovering Hermione's trunk, she gazed in wonder at the extensive garden, complete with a fountain.

Inside was no less impressive. The stone floor was covered with a lush carpet, portraits with carved wood frames hung of the walls. An elaborate staircase weaved its way upwards, and several corridors split off from the entrance hall which very well could have fit the entire first floor of Hermione's house with room to spare.

Mrs. Malfoy was smiling at Hermione. She noticed her mouth was hanging open. _Decorum_ , she reminded herself, shutting her jaw quickly. "It's… very impressive," Hermione managed.

"Yes, it is. Villy?"

A weird crack filled the room, as if Hermione's ears had popped, and a small, ugly little creature appeared in front of them. It had tawny skin, droopy ears and big eyes, and only a small white cloth to cover itself with. "Yes, Mistress?" the thing asked eagerly.

"Take Hermione and her trunk up to the guest room." The thing nodded vigorously, ears flapping around. "While she is here, you will get her anything she needs."

"Of course, Mistress. Villy lives to serve!" The little creature snapped its fingers and her trunk jumped into the air. It began climbing the stairs, waving for Hermione to follow. Mrs. Malfoy gently pushed Hermione along.

"We're expecting Lucius to be back within the hour. Have dinner ready."

"Yes, Mistress! Of course, Mistress!" The little guy was heaving himself up each stair, an enthusiastic smile plastered on his face as he watched Hermione follow him. "Come, Miss Hermione. Mistress says to make Miss Hermione's room very comfortable. Villy hopes Miss Hermione approves."

Hermione didn't know what to say. What was this thing? A house-elf? Hermione was vaguely aware of their existence. Many of her Slytherin classmates made some offhanded comments about their own house-elves, who, Hermione gathered, were nothing more than indentured servants. "Villy, is it?" She asked him – she thought it was a him – as they turned the first landing. Her trunk was floating ominously behind her.

"Yes, yes! Miss Hermione remembers Villy's name! Villy is very touched." The elf was beaming at her, not even looking where he was going as he vaulted each step. "Master Draco has been saying much about Miss Hermione's greatness. Villy knows Master Draco is correct."

"Draco's been telling you about me?" _Good things, I hope_.

Villy stopped. His smile slowly turned into a look of terror, eyes bugged out. All of a sudden, he started hitting his head on the step in front of him. "Bad Villy! Bad Villy!"

"Hey, stop!" Hermione shouted, pulling the house-elf up. "Stop it."

"Villy is bad! Villy is very bad!" he moaned, struggling against Hermione's grip.

" _Stop it_. Mrs. Malfoy told you to listen to me, right? So stop it."

The elf's flailing died down and he hung limp in her hands like a sad puppy.

"What was that about?"

"Villy is bad…" he whined.

"Yeah, I got that. What was the head banging about?"

"Villy is punishing himself."

"For what?"

"Villy is listening to Master's conversations and telling others. Villy is bad!" he sounded on the verge of tears.

"You didn't do anything wrong. We were just talking. You don't have to punish yourself."

Villy sniffed. "Miss Hermione is kind."

"Miss Hermione wants to see her room," she prodded, softly. Hermione didn't want to sit on the stairs nursing this thing back into a good mood. He seemed to enjoy his work so that is what Hermione wanted him doing.

As she thought, he immediately perked up. "Villy can do that! Villy will show Miss Hermione her room!" Villy dropped to the floor and scrambled up the stairs in such a hurry that Hermione's trunk nudged her in the back.

The room was nothing short of extravagant. A four-post bed was the centrepiece, complete with dark green velvet curtains and plush, embroidered pillows. Large French windows opened up onto a balcony overlooking the extensive gardens. Every surface seemed to be intricately carved dark wood except a stone trimmed fireplace on the far wall.

"This is brilliant," she whispered, awestruck.

"Miss Hermione is pleased?" Villy squeaked.

She smiled. "Miss Hermione is very pleased."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Villy returned to tell her that Master Lucius had returned and dinner would be served shortly. Hermione had been thinking about Draco's letter and his father's 'dress code'. She had no idea what passed for sophisticated in a pureblood home, but if Mrs. Malfoy's dress was any indication, it was probably more than a century behind Muggle fashion. With that in mind, Hermione decided to wear a simple, modest blue dress. It wasn't that hard. Most of Hermione's clothes were simple and modest. In fact, all of them were. Perhaps too simple for the likes of the Malfoys – but that couldn't be helped at the moment. The good news was the dress had a pocket for her wand. Half of it stuck out, but it would do.

Hermione hadn't really thought about her hair. Since… the change… Left alone, it looked far better than what it used to be, but that did not mean it was anything close to the elegant style Mrs. Malfoy emulated. She could just let it hang loose – a waterfall of thick waves. That's how she had left it over the summer. After a minute staring into the mirror biting her lip, Hermione chose to just brush it quickly and let it be. After all, her hair wouldn't make or break the Malfoys opinion of her if they wanted to judge her on her blood.

Hermione met Draco at the bottom of the stairs. He was pacing, twiddling with a dormant snitch in his fingers. He didn't seem to notice her so she made a polite cough. "Oh, hey…" he said, then continued his pacing.

"What do you think of the dress?"

"Hmm?" he looked at her a moment. "The dress?"

"Is it… you know, suitable? Appropriate?"

"Oh, sure." He began tossing the snitch up and snatching it out of the air.

"Are you nervous about having dinner with your parents?" she asked. He _was_ acting odd.

"What?" Hermione thought she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. "No. Of course not. No. I'm just wondering…"

"Wondering what?"

Draco hesitated, glancing at Hermione, then back to the snitch. At last, he said, "What if… What if Potter gets a Firebolt?"

Hermione frowned. "A Firebolt?"

"Yeah. He got a Nimbus 2000 first year. What if he gets a Firebolt?"

"So what if Potter gets a Firebolt?" Hermione couldn't resist a little poke at her friend. "You couldn't beat him when he had a _worse_ broom than you."

Now Hermione was sure Draco embarrassed. He stuck out his jaw and glared at her. "Quiet, Granger. He'll get what's coming to him this year."

Mrs. Malfoy's voice drifted through the house. "Draco! Hermione!"

Hermione followed Draco through the hallway to the left and emerged into a large dining room. A long table sat in the centre of the room. It was big enough to fit at least twenty people. Villy hopped from seat to seat, setting out silverware and making sure the steaming platters of food were aligned correctly.

Mrs. Malfoy was on the other side of the table, standing with a robed man with long, blond hair. He could only be Mr. Malfoy. Draco's mother gestured for the teenagers to join them. Mr. Malfoy held a walking stick with a snake's head handle under the crook of his left arm and a glass of amber liquid in his other hand. He was watching Hermione with a look of suspicion.

"Hermione, this is my husband, Lucius," Mrs. Malfoy said sweetly. "Lucius, this is Draco's friend Hermione."

"Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione, unconsciously sticking her hand out for a handshake. Mr. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but after a quick glance at Mrs. Malfoy, transferred his drink to his other hand and shook Hermione's hand.

"Miss Granger," he said coolly, "Draco has told us many stories about you. I am inclined to question the veracity of some of them."

Hermione fought off a frown. What had Draco been telling them? "Which ones, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Draco says you set a snake on that Potter boy."

She pushed the impulse to fidget all the way down to her foot and hoped nobody noticed. "I did, sir. But only because Professor Snape told me the spell."

Mr. Malfoy hummed and took a sip of his drink. "And the Polyjuice?"

"I – I was only able to brew it because Draco helped…"

"Are you sure you are in Slytherin?" he asked abruptly.

"Yes, sir. I'm almost certain."

"Then why are you deflecting your achievements onto others?" he grumbled.

"I – I don't know, sir..."

"She thinks she could get in trouble for them," Draco interrupted. "Hermione thinks Dumbledore will expel her for some reason."

"The old bat is probably the worst headmaster Hogwarts has ever had," Mr. Malfoy nodded. "Still, Draco says he only prepared the rudimentary base of the potion. Is that true?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Malfoy was still eyeing her. "I wouldn't believe a second year girl, let alone –" he glanced back to Mrs. Malfoy, "– I wouldn't believe it had Severus not told me you stole the ingredients from his stores."

Hermione sucked in her breath. "Professor Snape knows?"

"The man is morbidly obsessed with all things potions, and rabidly defensive of his possessions. You think he wouldn't notice when supplies disappeared from his stores?"

"It wasn't _that_ much…" Hermione mumbled.

"Severus seemed amused, but I wouldn't try it again," Mrs. Malfoy said, "I think Villy is done setting the table. Let's eat."

In truth, Hermione _had_ been surprised that Snape didn't catch her. Now it sounded like he was _trying_ not to catch her.

Mr. Malfoy took his seat at the end of the table, Mrs. Malfoy at his right and Draco at his left. Hermione sat next to Draco. Dinner was some sort of breaded chicken, white rice, and vegetables. Hermione had been expecting something posh, like veal. The meal looked a bit understated compared to the rest of the house, but Hermione didn't complain. It was delicious.

The Malfoys conversed lightly. Mr. Malfoy spoke about his meetings that day. He had seen Mr. Nott, the Greengrasses, and the Minister of Magic himself. Mrs. Malfoy had written a letter to someone named Horace, whom Mr. Malfoy suggested Draco meet soon. Draco tried to steer the conversation towards Quidditch, and even dropped a line about seeing the new Firebolt, but neither parent took the bait.

"Hermione, why so quiet?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

"I don't want to intrude," she said politely, though she was really thinking that she didn't want to embarrass herself.

"It's no intrusion. Tell us about yourself," Mrs. Malfoy took a sip of her wine.

"Did you really kill that Lockhart fraud?" asked Mr. Malfoy in a smooth voice.

Hermione choked on a forkful of rice.

" _Lucius_!" Mrs. Malfoy shrieked.

 _Granger_ …

"I was only wondering," Mr. Malfoy shrugged and drank from his cup.

Hermione wheezed and coughed and her vision blurred with tears. Draco's hand found hers under the table and she held on tightly.

"What's your favourite thing about Hogwarts?" asked Mrs. Malfoy quickly.

"The classes, definitely," Hermione began quietly after choking down the rice. "Some people think school is a drag, but how can you _not_ like learning magic?"

Mrs. Malfoy smiled. "What's your favourite class?"

"It's hard to say. I'm good a Potions, and Charms is always interesting, but I'm really fascinated by Defence. It's just… the teachers haven't been great…." Hermione slowed to a stop.

Mr. Malfoy harrumphed. "Leave it to Dumbledore to scrape the slime off the bottom of the bucket. There hasn't been a decent Defence teacher in decades. He's too scared to bring in someone who _knows_ what they are doing."

"Lucius," Mrs. Malfoy chided. "We've had this talk before."

"I'm just saying," he spread his hands in the air, "If you _really_ want our children to learn to defend themselves from the Dark Arts –"

"Lucius," she glared at him, "Enough."

"You really want Draco to go out into the world with his only experience of the Dark Arts being a little note on the side of a textbook, Narcissa?" Mr. Malfoy turned to his son. "Draco, what did you learn in Defence last year?"

"Mostly, what dark creatures look like."

"You see, Narcissa? _Creatures_. Like what, werewolves? Dementors?"

"Pixies," Draco made a face.

" _Pixies?_ " Mr. Malfoy coughed. "Pixies, Narcissa. They are teaching our son to fight off _pixies_."

"It was only second year, Lucius."

"They've already had a murderous deviant in the school – _two_ , in fact. I want my son to know how to defend himself, because the old fool Dumbledore sure won't." He took another swig of his drink. "No, no, no. It will not do at all."

Mrs. Malfoy was glaring at her husband.

Mr. Malfoy considered his son for a moment, then stood. "Come, Draco."

Draco hesitated, looking from his mother to his father and then to Hermione.

"I suppose you too, Granger," Mr. Malfoy said. "Though you seem to be able to take care of yourself."

Draco looked at Hermione, shrugged, and stood.

"Lucius, what are you doing?" Mrs. Malfoy snapped.

"Just teaching our son what he needs to know." He started walking towards the door with Mrs. Malfoy after him in a heartbeat.

Hermione and Draco followed, and she noticed he hadn't let go of her hand. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Father gets ideas sometimes. Mother doesn't like them."

"They're _children_ , Lucius!"

Hermione was intrigued. "Are we going to learn a new spell?"

Draco nodded. "That's the plan, I think."

"Draco is my only son and heir. I will _not_ allow him to grow up without learning _simple_ skills!" Mr. Malfoy yelled, standing at the open front door. "He'll learn eventually, anyway. Why not now?"

"Because he's _thirteen_."

"Almost a man," Mr. Malfoy waved her away, and gestured for Draco and Hermione to go outside. They squirmed between the two adult Malfoys and into the dimming evening. It was still warm.

The Malfoys simmered at each other for a moment, then Mrs. Malfoy let out a sigh. "Nothing lethal."

Mr. Malfoy growled.

" _Nothing_ lethal," Mrs. Malfoy growled right back.

"Very well," he stomped down the steps to the gravel drive. "Come," he said when he passed them, turning off into the garden.

Draco and Hermione followed a few steps behind. They weaved their way past hedges, flowerbeds and fountains towards what looked like a little hut on the perimeter of the grounds.

Hermione's hand was beginning to sweat from being pressed against Draco's, and he didn't seem like he was going to let go any time soon. "I'm okay now," she told him quietly.

"What?"

Hermione lifted their linked hands. "You don't have to hold my hand anymore. I'm fine."

"Oh," he blushed, and let go. "I was just – I thought –"

"Thank you."

Draco only nodded.

A year ago, she would have never believed that Draco Malfoy was able to show any kindness at all. Hermione thought herself lucky.

They approached the hut, a small thing with smoke coming out of its old chimney, and Mr. Malfoy rapped on the door with his walking stick. The door opened and a scruffy man appeared. "Yes, Master?"

"This," Mr. Malfoy said, pulling his walking stick apart to reveal his wand, "Is a Muggle. _Imperio!_ "

The Muggle snapped to attention. Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"The Imper–" Mr. Malfoy noticed her hand. "What is it?"

"Why do you have a Muggle living here, sir?" she asked, curious.

Mr. Malfoy snorted. "I won't have my wife go near a Muggle market. It would sully her. No, Masey here does the produce runs, along with most of the gardening.

"The Imperious –"

"Why don't you have Villy go to the market, sir?"

"You think Muggles could handle seeing a house-elf? They'd probably burn it, savages that they are."

"So why not go to a wizard market?"

"Wizards do not like to farm." Mr. Malfoy shook his head. "And Muggles have encroached on any traditional wizarding farmlands left, so there isn't a real wizarding market."

He watched her for a moment, waiting for the next question, but Hermione couldn't think of one in time. "The Imperious Curse will put anyone under your direct control. You can tell them to do anything and they will comply. For example: Masey, jump." The man jumped. "Sit." The man sat on the ground. "What do you say?" The man barked like a dog.

"You see? Easier than training a hound."

Hermione frowned. "They just do whatever you say?"

"Precisely what you want them to do."

"There's a spell that supplants free will with foreign directives?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that... shouldn't that be illegal?"

Mr. Malfoy walked towards her and crouched down to eye level. "Shouldn't trying to kill a little girl be illegal? But that still happened, didn't it?"

Hermione averted her gaze and Mr. Malfoy stepped away.

 _Granger_ …

"Sometimes, to protect yourself from harm, you must look outside the law. You will use this spell _only_ if your life depends on it. Draco, that means no Gryffindors."

"But what if they're asking for it?" grumbled Draco.

Mr. Malfoy poked Draco in the chest with the end of his walking stick. "Do not touch the Weasley twerps or the Potter hooligan with this spell, do not use it to get away with troublemaking, and _do not_ –" Mr. Malfoy grabbed Draco by the hair and pulled him close, "e _ver_ , use it on girls. Do you understand? For self-defence in life threatening situations, _only_."

Draco nodded.

"If I ever hear you've Imperiused a girl to get her knickers off – _any_ girl, be they Slytherin, Gryffindor, pureblood or not – Azkaban itself will not be able to keep me from flaying you alive."

"I wouldn't –"

"You are a Malfoy. You do not stoop that low. A girl who does not want you on her own is too stupid for you to desire." Mr. Malfoy shoved Draco back. "Now, you will try to put Masey under your control."

Hermione raised her hand again, an ethical dilemma jumping into her head.

"What is it, Granger?"

"Is he being paid for this?"

"Paid?" Mr. Malfoy stuck his hand in a pocket, pulled out a golden coin, and threw it into the hovel. "Yes."

Hermione wondered if Dumbledore would consider this 'wrong', or only 'what most people think wrong'. But he also said 'it's how you use it'. And if it could save her life… or another's…

 _Granger_ …

Hermione pointed her wand at Masey. " _Imperio!_ "

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione slept well that night. She had felt power. Immense power. Knowing she had the ability to directly assert her will on others was… liberating. She had no nightmares. She did not wake up drenched in sweat. She did not see a face in the darkness.

Hermione slept well that night.

* * *

 **:O**

 **Accto fake!Moody, Hogwarts doesn't teach the unforgivables until year 6, so there is no reason Hermione _should_ know in-depth what they are, even if she's a little know-it-all. Canon!Herm didn't know much of nonverbal spells until later, either. So there isn't much reason for Hermione to object to a way to control someone who means her harm (Lucius doesn't actually _say_ it's illegal). ****So no hate mail plzzzz. And if you are here, I'm sure you don't mind too much** **, given Hermione is only going to go darker grey from here.**

 **Like last chapter, thoughts on Lucius? I didn't have much use for the abusive!Lucius we see so much to justify/redeem Narcissa and Draco. No, if they feel the need to be redeemed they'll have to pull their own weight, no easy outs. I don't think I've swerved very far from canon Malfoys, either. Lucius is maybe a little more mellow, but we've never seen him at home in canon pre-Tom. And we only see Narcissa post-Tom, when Lucius is out of favor and Draco is in danger. And she wasn't half bad then.**

 **But let me be clear, my Malfoys are not a light family masquerading as dark. Narcissa is still a Black. Lucius is still a Death Eater. But they _are_ a family and they care about each other, something I think too many fanfic authors abandon for the sake of throwing a pity party for whomever draws the short stick. **

**But now I'm ranting on other fanfics and that may not be proper. Next chapter is perhaps my favorite. I almost want to post it tonight...**


	4. A Pureblood Party

**A/N: Apologies for the pump-fake last week. I was planning on getting a good chunk of MMIV going last weekend, but I found that I had too much I needed to put in to wing it. So I spent the week planning out the story chapter by chapter. Time well spent, but not enough movement on the word count front to warrant a bonus chapter.**

* * *

 **Chapter IV**

 **A Pureblood Party**

Hermione did not wake until well past nine o'clock. The bed was warm and soft and inviting. And large. Oh, so large. Hermione could stick her hands and feet out towards every corner and still have room to move around without sticking off the bed. _Maybe I should ask dad for a bed this size_ …

She got up slowly, stretching. The room had its own bathroom, so Hermione didn't have to go far for her morning shower. She put on her best jeans and a t-shirt and walked downstairs. Mrs. Malfoy was sipping tea at the table, penning another letter. She smiled as Hermione stepped into the dining room. "Good morning, dear."

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione smiled back.

"Oh, call me Narcissa. Mrs. Malfoy sounds so ceremonial."

"Okay… Narcissa."

"Are you hungry?"

Hermione nodded.

"Villy!" The little guy popped out of thin air. "Breakfast for Hermione."

"Yes, Mistress!"

He returned after a minute with a tray loaded with eggs, bacon, potatoes, sausages and toast. "Thanks, Villy," said Hermione, "It looks wonderful."

"Oh, Miss Hermione is too kind to Villy!" he squeaked with joy.

Breakfast was indeed wonderful.

"Tell me about your family," said Narcissa.

"What do you want to know?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I don't know, do you have any siblings?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm an only child."

"I have two sisters, myself. But I don't get to see them much," Narcissa said sadly. "My family was always… strained, even at the best of times. Holiday dinners with twenty or more incredibly proud and selfish wizards was as entertaining as it was terrifying."

"I don't have much family. No grandparents left, and my parents were also only children. They have a few cousins floating around, but no one we've kept in contact with. Family dinners for me were sitting on the couch watching the game with my dad while my mother read."

"I suppose both situations have their ups and downs," Narcissa laughed. Hermione smiled. "I was thinking we would leave for Diagon Alley in an hour or so. What do you think?"  
"That sounds great, Mrs – Narcissa."

"Excellent," she smiled.

The door opened behind Hermione and Mr. Malfoy walked in carrying a newspaper. On the cover was a large, moving picture of an insane prisoner, labelled **SIRIUS BLACK**. Hermione had read about him. One of the Dark Lord's fanatical followers. And recently escaped from Azkaban. A prison in the middle of the North Sea. With no wand. Hermione had to admit that it was impressive. A real Houdini.

"Lucius, dear," Narcissa called sweetly as he passed by. "Can you send this letter off?"

Mr. Malfoy halted, hand outstretched. Narcissa was still finishing the letter and made him wait a few seconds before allowing him to pluck it from her fingers. He made a grumbling noise and looked at his wife.

"What is it, darling?"

"Have you told her?" he asked, glancing at Hermione.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. We'll be having guests over tonight, Hermione. The Greengrasses and the Notts. You know Theodore and Daphne, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione nodded.

"Which means," Lucius was eyeing her. " _Proper_ dress will be required."

Hermione blushed and looked down at her jeans. She thought they were nice. Maybe not cocktail-party-nice, but decent.

"I'm sure Hermione will change, Lucius," Narcissa hummed. "We'll be going in to Diagon Alley soon. I don't think she wants to ruin any of her nice clothes while she's out."

Mr. Malfoy grunted and walked off.

"Villy! Hermione is done with her breakfast." The house-elf jumped to clear the table. "I think Draco is out on the pitch with his broom, if you want to join him."

"Okay," said Hermione, standing. "Um… where is that?"

"It's just around the back of the house. Can't miss it."

Hermione made her way outside into the sunny day. It wasn't yet too warm, and a nice breeze caressed her skin. The pitch was, indeed, hard to miss. Six large hoops stood on top of posts, three on either side of an oval field. Hermione couldn't tell for sure – she had never been down to the Quidditch pitch at school – but the field couldn't have been more than half-size, and it was still impressive. And up in between the hoops, robes flapping in the wind, was Draco on his broom. It took him a minute to notice her, and another minute to finally make his way down to the ground.

"Daphne and Nott are coming over tonight."

Draco nodded. "Father told me. Daphne's sister, too. I think she's starting Hogwarts this year."

"I don't know if Slytherin can handle two Daphnes," Hermione laughed.

"I'd be more worried about the rest of the school," he grinned.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Draco tried to get Hermione to fly with him, but she wouldn't go near a broom. They returned to the house after a while to get ready for Diagon Alley. Draco went to his room to change out of his Quidditch robes and put his broom away while Hermione looked through her trunk for her booklist and the cheque her father had given her to pay for her school supplies. She found the cheque, but it was made out for a bit more than she expected. A little note was attached to it. _Get yourself something nice. Have a wonderful birthday, Love Dad._ Hermione couldn't help but smile. Once stashed in her pocket, and checking she had her wand, Hermione went downstairs.

Narcissa opened the door to the dining room and smiled at her. "Ready for Diagon Alley?" Hermione nodded. "Draco?" she called. Her son appeared at the top of the stairs after a moment and then they were on their way.

The three of them stepped through the Malfoy fireplace and arrived in the Leaky Cauldron. "Gringotts first, I think," Narcissa said, briskly walking to the backyard and opening the archway to Diagon Alley. She led the teenagers towards the old white marble building at the end of the alley. While the Malfoys climbed the stairs to the main entrance, Hermione split off to a side window where an old goblin sat, reading the _Daily Prophet_.

"Excuse me," Hermione said as politely as she could, "I'd like to –"

The goblin grunted and extended a clawed hand. Hermione shoved the cheque at him. He disappeared under the counter, replaced with a whistle and clicking sounds. A second later, he popped back up with a brown linen sack. "Forty-nine galleons, three sickles, five knuts."

"Thanks," Hermione said, taking the money bag and leaving quickly.

Narcissa and Draco were just exiting the main doors as Hermione approached them. "There you are, Hermione. You shouldn't run off like that," Narcissa chided.

"I had to exchange from Muggle currency," said Hermione. "They only do that at the window over there."

"Oh?" Narcissa glanced over to the bored goblin. "How quaint."

The first stop they arrived at was Flourish and Blotts. The air was musky and warm and comforting. Wall to wall books made Hermione feel right at home.

"Ah, Hogwarts?" said a harried employee. He scuttled over to a cage filled with book flapping around like they were possessed. He snatched one out with a net and Draco took it at arm's length.

The man went back for another but Hermione stopped him. "Not for me. I need more _civilized_ books."

"Whew," he looked relieved. "Thank goodness for you, miss."

Draco and Hermione went around, collecting the new textbooks for their core classes. A new book of charms, then next transfiguration volume. Snape had them get a more advanced copy of the potions manual, too. Draco already had his Magical Creatures text – if you could call it that – and that only left Ancient Runes for the both of them and Arithmancy for Hermione.

Narcissa followed them around at her own pace. "Ah, Draco, I think this is the copy of Beedle I read to you as a baby." She was perusing a large book that seemed to a kind of wizard picture book. "Ah, yes. You always loved the Three Brothers."

"Three brothers?" Hermione asked.

"Just a children's story," Draco shrugged. "The three brothers beat Death at a chess game and he gives each a gift. They all try to escape Death, but they all die in the end."

Hermione grimaced. "Not a very child friendly book."

"On the contrary," Narcissa smiled. "I found it very educational. Draco never asks for too much, lest he reaps the deadly consequences."

Draco nodded. "Like I could ask for a firebolt…"

"But he doesn't," she snapped the book shut. "All ready to go?"

Narcissa decided to split up. She had Hermione give Draco a few galleons to go refill their potions supplies, and led Hermione to Madam Malkin's.

"New Hogwarts robes, dear?" Madam Malkin asked. "New fit or a replacement?"

"Replacement," Hermione said.

"Very good. I'll just need your name and I can look up your measurements."

"Actually, I think we should go for the new fit," said Narcissa from behind her. Hermione looked at her and she smiled. "I'm sure she has grown quite a bit from age eleven. Our Hermione is turning into a fine young woman." Hermione felt a bit of a flush in her cheeks.

Madam Malkin gave an exasperated look but didn't question Narcissa. "Up on the stool, then."

Hermione walked to the stool and stood as still as possible as Madam Malkin began measuring her. Narcissa pulled a chair over and watched with a thoughtful look from her seat. Hermione felt like she was on display, but Narcissa didn't seem to be judging her.

"The robes will be ready in a half an hour or so," Madam Malkin said when she finished.

"Could I get a new uniform as well?" asked Hermione.

"Of course, dear. House?"

"Slytherin."

Hermione stepped off the stool. "I think we'll stay here while we wait, if that is okay," said Narcissa. Madam Malkin only grunted to herself. "Would you come over here, Hermione?"

She went to Narcissa, who guided her down into the chair and spun her around to face the mirror. "I love your hair," she said, gliding her fingers along a few tresses. "I hope I'm not being… I hope you don't mind me doting on you, Hermione. It's just… well, I've always wanted a daughter."

"No," Hermione murmured. "It's fine. I – I like it."

She smiled. "Sometimes I wonder… But Lucius is stubborn. He's happy with Draco – not that I'm not – I love Draco more than anything else in the world, of course, but it's not the same..." Hermione watched through the mirror as Narcissa drew a comb through her hair. After hitting a few snags, the comb found its way through the mess without difficulty and each hair began pulling on her scalp like a massage. Hermione leaned back with a contented smile and closed her eyes, her head rolling to comply with Narcissa's firm but gentle hands. "I really do love your hair. It reminds me of my sister's. My sisters were a few years older than me. I'm sure they got annoyed with me all the time, but they always let me play with their hair."

Narcissa began pulling it into sections and brushing it with care. "So, Hermione, have any boys caught your eye?"

Hermione looked at her suspiciously, but only saw genuine curiosity. "Uh… Not really… I haven't really thought about that…"

"That's okay," Narcissa hummed and started to braid Hermione's hair. "You're only thirteen. I'm sure in a few years you'll have all the boys after you, if they aren't already," she laughed, a crisp, pleasant sound like a bell chiming.

"I don't think _that_ will happen…" Hermione mumbled with red cheeks. "They'll be more interested in Pansy or Lavender Brown."

"I wouldn't be too hard on yourself. You're _very_ pretty, and you'll only grow into it. Besides, the right boys will be more interested in what's in here," Narcissa tapped Hermione's forehead, "And I think you are miles ahead of other girls already." Hermione could only shrug awkwardly. She wasn't sure if Narcissa was just being nice or actually thought that. "But you don't need to worry. When you find the right guy, you'll know. It may take you a while, but you'll find him. And sometimes he's hiding in plain sight. I knew Lucius for years before we fell in love. I think we just both needed to mature a bit.

"In fact, we took so long that Lucius was practically out of Hogwarts. When he graduated, he gave me this," Narcissa stretched her arm over Hermione's shoulder and wiggled a long finger on which she wore an elaborate ring. The silver band was carved to shape several serpents intertwining, each with emerald eyes and ruby tongues. "To make his intentions clear. It's a Malfoy family heirloom. Lucius wears the partner ring. The story is that his ring knows where my ring is, so he can always find me. Do you know why?"  
"So he knows when you are cheating on him?" Hermione guessed.

Narcissa laughed. "I wouldn't say that. So he can always be there when I need him. It's a show of our devotion to each other. He wanted me to know what I meant to him."

"The ring ensures fidelity?"

She laughed again. "You might say it is stronger than fidelity."

Hermione watched as the simple braid was completed and Narcissa tossed it over Hermione's shoulder. "Do you like it?" Narcissa asked, tucking Hermione's stray hairs behind her ears. Hermione touched it lightly, afraid that it would all fall apart. No one had ever braided her hair for her, and she didn't want to ruin it.

"I love it."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

They found Draco sitting outside the ice-cream parlor, a large stack of potions supplies on the table, and an ice-cream cone in his hand. "Took you long enough," said Draco, biting in to the cone.

"You didn't get ice-cream for your ladies?" Narcissa shook her head. "I thought I raised you better than that."

Draco scowled. "How was I supposed to know when you'd be done? It would've been melting by now."

She pushed a bag into his hand, "Load everything up. I'm going on an errand. I'll be back in a quarter hour. Don't get into trouble." As Narcissa marched off, Draco pouted, looking from the bag to his cone.

"Here," said Hermione, lifting the ice-cream out of his hands. "Now you can do the boxes." She grinned and began eating the rest of the cone.

"You're impossible on your best day, you know that?" he growled, shoving box after box into the bag. But it didn't start to overflow. The entire heap fit as easily as if they weren't even there. Magic, of course, but amazing nonetheless.

"I think I want an owl," Hermione commented, watching people walk up and down the street.

"An owl?"

"Yes, an owl. My dad gave me a little extra to get myself an early birthday present. I think I want an owl."

"Well, I think you should get a broom," Draco said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Good thing they gave the money to me, then. I'm getting an owl." Hermione stood and started off towards the pet store – or the Magical Menagerie, as it was called. It was really just a pet store.

The shop was noisy, smelly, and unimpressive. The woman behind the counter was telling a customer about skrewts or something so Hermione took a look around herself. Every wall was covered with cages and boxes containing all sorts of animals, magical or otherwise, but the owl section was a bit sparse. "There's an _actual_ owl shop down the street," Draco drawled behind Hermione, poking a finger at an irritable owl, who tried to bite him.

"That might be better."

They were about to leave when they heard a yowling from the front counter. A large, ginger cat soared through the air, landing on the equally ginger head of one Ronald Weasley, and then pounced at the woman behind the counter. Something brown scampered across the counter, the cat in pursuit, and jumped down to the floor. Weasley, and Potter - who had been standing off to the side - ran after the little vermin. The witch shouted at the cat and stared herding it away from the door, straight into Hermione arms.

It was an odd cat. Large, lumpy, with a squished face and a tail like a lion's. The witch tried to take him out of Hermione's arms, but he hissed and clawed at her. "Sorry about that. Crookshanks gets a bit moody. Sometimes I think he attacks customers when he realizes they don't want him."

"I don't know why anyone wouldn't want him. If he can scare Weasley off like that, he'd be worth any price," snickered Draco.

Hermione grinned, stroking his soft fur.

"If only, if only…" the witch muttered, avoiding another clawed attack from Crookshanks. "Come here you little braggart."

"Actually," Hermione mused, holding the cat closer to her chest, "How much for him?"

Draco snorted. "You know cats can't deliver letters, right?"

"Hogwarts has school owls," she dismissed him. "How much?"

"How much –" The woman looked shocked. "For him?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well… Let me see… ten galleons is fair, I think."

"I'll pay five," Hermione smiled sweetly.

The witch frowned. "Nine."

"That's okay. I'll just get an owl from down the street." Hermione held Crookshanks out to the witch, who recoiled.

"No, no – five is fine," she said quickly.

"Excellent," Hermione extracted her money bag and spilled five galleons on to the counter. "Come on, Crookshanks. You've got a new family now." The ginger cat flicked his tail contentedly, perched in Hermione's arms like they were his throne.

They found Weasley and Potter pulling out a rat from underneath a garbage can. "Is the world telling us something, Draco?" she purred to Draco. "Something about trash… and Weasleys?"

He laughed. "Looking for lunch, Weasley?" Draco called.

The redhead wheeled around, red in the face and ears. He quickly pulled out his wand – this one not taped together like last year – and pointed it directly at Hermione. Her heart skipped a beat, and then she remembered it was only Weasley, and he was in a populated area. And Narcissa would be back any second now. And it was only Weasley.

"You – you –" he sputtered. "You _bought_ that thing?"

"Who, Crookshanks?" she smiled, rocking her new cat back and forth. "Isn't he a dear? So handsome. Some men do know how to wear ginger. Others, not so much."

"Stay away from me, snake," Weasley shouted, clutching his rat and backing away.

"I try my best to."

"And keep that _thing_ away from Scabbers!"

"Keep _your_ vermin away from Crookshanks. I don't want him choking on that stringy beast."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione picked out a pink dress for dinner. It was still fairly simple, but had had a faded white floral pattern that she liked. Her only pair of heels were squat and not very impressive, but it was all she had. Hermione left her hair as Narcissa styled it and put on a soft pink lipstick to match her dress. "You have to stay up here," Hermione said to Crookshanks, who was perched on her bed. "Mr. Malfoy doesn't want you running around."

"That thing is mangy," he had said when he saw the cat. Narcissa calmed him down enough to get him to agree to let Crookshanks stay the night. The Hogwarts Express left in the morning and after that they'd be rid of him.

Hermione thought she put herself together well until she saw what the lady of the house was wearing. Narcissa was decked out in what could only be described as a ball gown, bracelets clinking with jewels and diamonds adorning her neck and ears. Her hair was swept to the back of her head in braids and then fell loose over her neck in a golden curtain.

But Narcissa didn't spend any time basking in Hermione's adoring stare. She cupped Hermione's cheeks and said, "You look gorgeous, dear."

A flash of green from the fireplace meant the floo had been activated. Narcissa and Hermione joined Draco and Mr. Malfoy in the parlor to greet their two guests. Hermione recognized Theodore Nott, so the older man must have been his father. "Edward," Mr. Malfoy said, clasping the elder Nott's arm.

"Lucius," he responded in a stern voice. "Draco."

"Mr. Nott," Draco greeted him, shaking his hand.

"Narcissa," Nott said last, kissing her knuckles lightly.

"Edward, a pleasure to have you in our home. It's been too long."

"Indeed," he said, "My son, Theodore."

The younger Nott repeated the greetings in a similarly terse fashion. He did not, apparently, lighten up outside of Hogwarts. And with a father like that, Hermione wasn't surprised.

The room glowed green again for a moment and a family of four walked out of the fireplace. A heavyset man with a beard ambled forward, a tall, thin woman on his arm. Behind them followed their daughters, who obviously took after their mother. Daphne wore a black skirt with a white blouse while her little sister wore a dark green dress. They were nearly identical, both slender, fair skinned with impeccably straight, dark hair - though Daphne was a good few inches taller - but their demeanors could not have differed more. While Daphne regarded her surroundings will a cool gaze, giving off the feeling that she would rather be anywhere else, her sister was positively bouncing, staring from one thing to another with a look of wonder.

"Nicolas, Olivia," Narcissa greeted them with hugs. "Welcome to our home. My husband, of course, and our son Draco. And you remember Edward Nott? And his son Theo."

The Greengrasses went around the circle exchanging pleasantries. "Ah yes, Draco," Mr. Greengrass said, "Slytherin seeker, I am told? Good boy! And you'll make the team this year, eh Nott?" he prodded Theodore with a chuckle.

The little Nott only shrugged. "We'll see." A heavy hand on his shoulder from Nott Sr. was an obvious signal that even Hermione could understand. 'No shrugging'.

"Daphne says you might become a great seeker one day," Mr. Greengrass continued without pause.

"Might," Daphne chirped. "Potter's the one who's never missed the snitch."

Draco reddened.

Mr. Greengrass laughed heartily. "Daph's never one to put all her money on one horse. You've got competition, son," he joked. "Let me introduce you two young men to my youngest, Astoria." The mini-Daphne stepped forward eagerly with a sweet smile. "She'll be starting Hogwarts tomorrow. I expect you to help her out when she makes Slytherin."

"Nicolas…" his wife clucked. "Don't sort her before the hat does."

Mr. Greengrass scoffed. "You shouldn't be fooled by her sugary personality. Tory's got fangs, especially when she doesn't get what she wants."

The two boys brushed their lips to her knuckles lightly and greeted her with "nice to meet you, Miss Greengrass". Daphne's reputation obviously preceded her sister.

"And this," Narcissa said, laying a hand on Hermione's back, "Is Hermione Granger. She is the girl who defeated Gilderoy Lockhart in a duel and saved the lives of three other students in the process."

Hermione gulped. Nine pairs of eyes fixed on her. "Hello," she said. "Nice to meet all of you."

"Interesting," Mr. Greengrass said, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"A pleasure to meet you, too," said Mrs. Greengrass.

Neither Nott said anything.

Astoria tugged on Daphne's blouse, asking her something. The older girl waved her sister off, glared at her parents, and then hugged Hermione delicately. "Good to see you again, Hermione. Have a good summer?"

Hermione, a little shocked, returned the light hug. "It was fine. I travelled a bit. You?"  
She pulled away but didn't retreat. "Wonderful. I was stuck with Astoria the whole time."  
"Daphne!" her mother scolded.

Narcissa clapped her hands. "Villy, the drinks."

Villy popped up with a tray of tall flute glasses filled with a reddish drink. The adults began to sit, so Hermione followed their lead. Draco and Theo sat on their own couch to Hermione's left. The adults all sat in their own armchairs – Malfoy, Nott and Greengrass from left to right. Hermione planted herself on a couch with Daphne. Astoria, the last left standing, quickly dropped herself next to Daphne, squeezing all three girls together.

The house-elf handed out the glasses. Hermione sniffed hers. It smelled slightly odd. She took a taste and recognized it as wine. She was about to return hers to Villy – as she was underage – but then saw Daphne take a large drink of her glass while the boys sipped. It seemed like wizards didn't object to children drinking. Or maybe drinking at all. Hermione was fairly sure that Mr. Malfoy had been drunk the previous night.

The conversation drifted from politics to economics, to Hogwarts and gossip. Draco even managed to derail the discussion into Quidditch, and effort to which Theodore and Daphne contributed greatly. Mr. Greengrass evidently thought that a full team of Firebolts at the World Cup was a terrible idea, though he was shouted down from all sides. Other than Quidditch and little forays into the conversation here and there, the younger guests kept quiet, allowing the adults to steer things. Several times, Hermione saw Astoria peering around Daphne at her, but she was always pushed back by her sister with a hissed warning.

Hermione had been sipping her drink every now and then, trying to acquire a taste for it, but not succeeding. She was about a third of the way through her glass when Narcissa called for dinner. They were seated at the dinner table in a similar formation. The adults were grouped at the head of the table, the teenagers down towards the middle.

Dinner was what looked to be expensive cut of steak, potato wedges and green beans. The conversation continued as it was, though slower than before. Hermione saw that Daphne had refiled her glass, whereas Hermione was only halfway through her own, just about on pace with Astoria and a little behind Draco and Theo. The adults were probably on their second as well. Or even third.

Hermione tuned out whatever they were talking about up the table. They would probably not pull her in and she was not particularly interested in broom-twig regulations or Gringotts withdrawal fees. Instead, she focused on her food. The potatoes were seasoned extremely well, but she found the steak lacking. Perhaps she just wasn't a fan of red meat, which was entirely possible, but it tasted too bland to her. The others didn't seem to think that, though, as they wolfed theirs down. It was probably just her.

As Hermione finished her first glass of wine – deciding not to continue to a second – she saw Daphne reach for a third only for the glass to be intercepted by her mother. Daphne pouted for a moment, then reached over and took Astoria's nearly full second glass. That, too, was soon confiscated by her mother and Daphne settled back in her chair, a bored look on her face.

When dinner ended, the whole party moved outside into the warm evening. The adults stayed near the house on a patio while the teenagers were ushered towards the Quidditch pitch. Hermione couldn't help but scowl. The idea of flying on an empty stomach upset her. Flying right after eating was a disaster waiting to happen.

But the boys took to the idea with gusto. Draco dragged them all to a shed near one of the posts and handed out brooms. Theodore and Draco jumped into the sky, but the girls stayed on the ground. Astoria was considering the broom with a perplexed face, Hermione dropped hers to the ground, and Daphne still looked bored. A minute of hovering above the pitch and realizing none of the girls would follow, the boys returned.

"What's wrong? The brooms can't be broken," said Draco.

"No," Daphne replied casually, checking her cuticles. They'd be perfect, as always, but it never hurt to look.

"Then what?" he asked.

"I don't know how to fly…" Astoria said in a soft voice.

Draco looked at Hermione, who only shook her head. They'd been over this.

"Come on, Miss Greengrass. Scared of heights?"

Daphne looked up from her nails. "Very well." She put her foot in the stirrup, leaned against the upright broom and pushed off, hovering about a foot in the air.

Nott snorted.

"What?" asked Daphne, lowering herself to the ground. "You may be hoping I start flying around in a skirt, mister-creeper-man, but it's never going to happen. Not with two glasses of wine, not with a whole bottle of firewhiskey. We're ladies, not strumpets. Go play your little game. We'll stay down here."

Draco frowned. He turned to the little Greengrass. "We can teach you to fly…"

"Really?" she smiled.

"Astoria, no," Daphne snapped. "Give Draco the broom."

Astoria's face fell and she handed the broom over. Draco glared at Daphne. "Always have to ruin our fun. Come on, Theo. They're probably terrible at Quidditch anyway." The two boys zoomed away, leaving a gloomy Astoria, an obstinate Daphne, and an uncomfortable Hermione.

"I wouldn't have flown high…" Astoria moped.

"And what if you crashed? Or thoroughly embarrassed yourself? Mum would be furious and I'd never hear the end of it. Let's find some place to sit." Daphne slid her arm into Astoria's, turning her towards the garden. "Coming, Hermione?"

"Oh, sure…"

Daphne took Hermione's arm in her own as well and led them forward. They meandered through the hedges and bushes until Daphne selected a bench on the side of a fountain. They sat in silence for a minute. "I'm sorry," Daphne said quietly. "But I need you to know what you should and shouldn't do."

"They teach us to fly, Daph," pouted Astoria. "At Hogwarts."

"It doesn't matter. You shouldn't be doing it."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the one who'll get in trouble if you get hurt."

Astoria sniffed, not pleased with the answer.

"And I don't want you to get hurt," Daphne added. She turned to Hermione. "Your dress is pretty."

"Really?" Hermione looked down. "It's not much compared to yours…"

"It suits you," Daphne felt the dress on Hermione's leg. "I like the fabric."

"It's just cotton."

"It's nice." Daphne looked back at her sister for a second. "Sorry about the family drama."

"It's okay," Hermione shrugged. Her plan was to ignore it.

"She's been asking about you a lot."

"What?" Hermione blinked, and looked over at the girl. She was doing her best to avoid eye contact, though she chanced a peak every few seconds. _How does she even know me?_

"I told her about what you did last year, with the Basilisk, and now she won't shut up about it."

In the fading light, Hermione swore she saw the girl blushing. "I really didn't do much to the Basilisk."

Astoria was fidgeting now, looking between Hermione and Daphne, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Is it okay if she asks you some questions?" Daphne asked her.

"Oh… uh… I don't know…"

"Please?" Daphne said, a soft smile on her lips. "I'd owe you."

Hermione bit her lip. On the one hand, she didn't quite know what she was comfortable to talk about regarding the Chamber. On the other, Daphne Greengrass owning her a favor was awfully enticing.

"I guess so," Hermione said hesitantly.

"You figured out it was a Basilisk by reading a book?" Astoria blurted, and Hermione nodded after a moment. "That's _brilliant_! Why didn't Dumbledore think of that? Did you kill it yourself?"

"No, that was Potter."

"But you knew how to kill it and told the boy?"

"Well, I knew _how_ –"

"And you stopped Lock–" Daphne grabbed Astoria's wrist hard enough to stop her tongue.

"Did you ever figure out who was the heir? Are you sure it wasn't Potter?" asked Daphne, who was either mildly interested or tactful enough to skirt questions that Hermione had no intention of ever answering. Either way, Hermione was grateful.

"Yeah, I found out. And it wasn't Potter."

"Who?" squealed Astoria, bug-eyed.

"It was… some sort of book that possessed people…" Hermione ventured, not quite sure how much she was supposed to give away.

"A book?" Astoria clapped her hand to her mouth.

"And that's why you never go into the restricted section," Daphne commented, eyeing her sister. "And you are positive it wasn't Potter?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"Because… I asked him."

"And he told you?"

"No… he told Parvati Patil."

Daphne frowned. "I don't follow."

"I… looked like Parvati, well, Padma, her twin, but I was playing Parvati. And I asked Potter, and he said he wasn't and I believe him."

"You… looked like Patil? What, did you dye your whole body and straiten your hair?"

"No, I took a potion."

Daphne's frown increased. "But the only potion... No… Snape wouldn't have made it for you…"

"He didn't. I made it," Hermione couldn't help but grin.

"Made what?" Astoria asked, lost.

"No… you couldn't have…" Daphne looked shocked.

"Yes, I did. You can ask Draco."

"Made what, Daph?"

Daphne was speechless for a moment. " _How?_ "

Hermione shrugged. "I'm good at magic."

"Daph? Daph _nee_! Made what, Daph?" Astoria begged, tugging at Daphne's arm.

"Polyjuice potion."

Astoria's mouth made a big 'O'. "But that's… like… hard to make."

Daphne snorted. "Yes, Tory. It is."

"And you made it?" Astoria was ecstatic. "You're _brilliant!_ "

Hermione giggled. "It wasn't _that_ hard. Just took a while."

"You're _ab_ so _lute_ ly _brilliant_!" the girl shouted. "I'm going to be Slytherin, and you'll teach me how to make Polyjuice and find Basilisks and then you'll be head girl, and then I'll be head girl, and then you'll be headmistress–"

Daphne put her arm around her sister and pulled her away from Hermione. "Okay, you're done."

But Hermione was grinning. She quite liked this. "I can do more than brew potions and find monsters. You want to see?"

Astoria was bouncing from one foot to the other. "Yes, yes, yes! Can we, Daph? Pl _eeea_ se?"

"I suppose. What is it?"

Hermione took their arms in hers. "Come on, I'll show you." She pulled the sisters along through the garden, back past the manor and gravel drive towards the outer boundary. Hermione pulled up at the old hovel and knocked at the door. She took out her wand and Masey opened the door. " _Imperio!_ " Masey went rigid. "Do a backflip. Do a cartwheel! A handstand!" Hermione giggled as the man did everything she said.

When she looked back at the sisters, Astoria was jumping up and down with a look of pure joy on her face. Daphne's mouth was hanging open and she was staring from the man to Hermione. " _Brilliant_!" Astoria shrieked before charging Hermione and wrapping her with her small arms.

"You should put him back," Daphne said softly, pulling Hermione's wand hand down. She was flushed and looking at Hermione with a weird look in her eyes. Hermione made the man go into his house. "It's getting dark. They'll be expecting us back." Daphne took Hermione's hand, Astoria the other. They walked back to the house, Astoria repeating " _brilliant_ " over and over and Daphne giving Hermione furtive glances the whole way.

Narcissa met them at the door. "Ah, there you are, girls. Where are the boys?"

"Still on their brooms, I think," Hermione said.

"Tsk, tsk," Narcissa shook her head. "Boys… At least you three have some sense in you." She turned away and joined the others in room Hermione suspected was Mr. Malfoy's study. The three girls made their way to the sitting room, Daphne scooping up a couple more glasses of wine for herself and Hermione, and plonked themselves down on the couch.

Hermione finished about half of her glass with Astoria, not wanting to make Daphne feel uncomfortable to be drinking alone. Astoria began quizzing the older girls on Hogwarts, managing to extract a promise to sit together on the train in the morning before slipping off into a slumber, curled up on the end of the couch. "I thought she was going to go all night," Daphne murmured, downing the last of her drink before setting her head on Hermione's shoulder with a sigh.

"She seems lovely…" responded Hermione, picking the wineglass out of Astoria's hand and placing it on the coffee table.

Daphne nuzzled her neck. "Why've we never talked at school?"

Hermione bit her lip. That was an awkward subject, so she took the easy way out. "You've… always been with Tracey."

Daphne nodded. "Tracey's my best friend." She snaked her arms around Hermione's midriff and pulled her tight. "You can't replace my best friend. But that doesn't mean we can't be close, too."

Hermione hugged her back and smiled. "I'd like that." She rested her head on Daphne's and closed her eyes. Hermione was up to three friends and the school year hadn't even started yet. Things were looking up.

Sometime later, Hermione was roused from her doze as Daphne was pulled away from her. Mr. Greengrass picked up the sleeping Astoria and his wife prodded Daphne until she was alert enough to be pulled to her feet. "Wonderful party, Narcissa," Mrs. Greengrass said, supporting Daphne as they walked toward the fireplace. "The kids will have a good night sleep."

"Yes. Have a good night, Olivia, Nicolas." Hermione felt a whoosh and green light filtered through her eyelids.

"Edward," she heard Mr. Malfoy say, "I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow."

"Indeed. Theodore, come." Another green breeze hit Hermione and she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hermione, dear," Narcissa said, "You can't sleep on the couch. Let's get you to bed."

"It's a nice couch…" Hermione complained, but pushed herself up. Narcissa walked with Hermione up to her room and helped her into bed. Crookshanks jumped up onto the bed and nuzzled her. Hermione looked up at her face as Narcissa undid her braid. "You're very kind…"

Narcissa laughed that ringing laugh. "And you're a sweet girl. Get some rest."

* * *

 **Wow. Nearly seven thousand words. Easily the longest chapter in MM history! Probably won't hold that title til the end, though.**

 **I hope I have put a somewhat original spin on Daphne. She always gets typecast as 'ice princess', to the point of cliché (like actually referring to her by that title). Which is unfortunate because I think it helps balance against Pansy's... exuberance. Anyway, maybe this chapter provides some intriguing developments for our dear princess. There are clues to her motivations, if you look for them. (I also probably put Daphne on the list of main characters solely on the basis of this chapter. I don't think she features a lot more than, say, Theo or Astoria or Ron. Don't be too disappointed if she isn't out there kicking ass and taking names with Hermione).**

 **Another goal of this was to humanize the ostentatiously 'aristocratic' Slytherin pureblood families. They're still people, too! Don't forget.**

 **Ah, Narcissa... hasn't seen her sisters in nearly 15 years. Hermione doesn't have the best relationship with her mother. Perfect fit. One of my favorite pairs to write scenes with.**

 **Perhaps my biggest oversight in this installment is dear Crookshanks. I predict he will be the biggest continuity problem I will have in MM, as I keep forgetting he exists. Please accept my apologies in advance.**

 **Brownie points for anyone who can guess why these specific people are at the party. It might be obvious, might not. Depends on how you think.**

 **-I always feel the need to ruminate on my chapters and rant to you. Anyone have a problem with that? Are these A/Ns too glaring or do you appreciate them? I'm curious.**


	5. Returning the Favor

**Chapter V**

 **Returning the Favor**

"Hermione!"

The Malfoys had brought Hermione and Draco to the station at promptly 10:45 in the morning and were greeted by a bouncing Astoria. The girl tried to wrap Hermione in a hug but was pulled away by Daphne, who apologized for her little sister and seemed slightly flustered. Tracey Davis was very amused by the Astoria's reaction to Hermione. While their parents talked, the teenagers climbed aboard the train to find a compartment.

It wasn't that hard. The train seemed only half full. They chose a cabin at the front of train so they wouldn't have to walk as far when they got to Hogwarts. Daphne and Tracey claimed one side and Hermione and Astoria took the other. She let the little Greengrass take the window seat. It would distract her for part of the trip and give Hermione some bit of rest from her enthusiasm. Draco, being the only boy in the compartment, resigned himself, glowering, to stowing the trunks. Not a minute after he finished, Nott stepped into the compartment. "Draco," he said evenly.

"Theo. You could have showed up a bit earlier," Draco scowled, planting himself on the other side of Hermione. "You can put up your own trunk."

Crabbe and Goyle entered soon after and took the last two seats by the door. The train lurched forward and they were off. Astoria was plastered to the window for the moment, so Hermione opened Crookshanks' basket and retrieved the ginger cat. She plopped him on her lap and stroked his back.

"What is _that_ damned thing?" Nott recoiled, staring at the hairy lump of a cat. Crookshanks growled.

"Don't you know what a cat is, Theo?" Tracey giggled.

Hermione fixed Nott with a cross look. "This is Crookshanks, and I don't think he likes you either."

"Just keep it away from me," muttered Nott.

"Aww, isn't he adorable?" Astoria squeaked, scratching Crookshanks' head. He purred and leaned into her.

Conversation moved from one subject to another. Astoria asked excitedly about each class, what the Slytherin dorms were like, and how good the food at the feast was. Daphne tried her best to keep the reins on Astoria, but Tracey encouraged the girl. Nott glared at everybody.

"What happened with Black?" Tracey asked as rains started to pelt the train. "Have they caught him yet?"

"Father says he won't show himself until he wants to," Daphne said coolly. "Not just anyone can break out of Azkaban."

"Do you think he's after Harry Potter?" asked Astoria innocently.

"Hope he gets the prick," Nott muttered.

Daphne made a disapproving noise. "I don't want him anywhere near Hogwarts."

"I think he's coming for Potter," said Draco enthusiastically. "Father says the Minister heard him saying 'He's at Hogwarts' in his sleep. That's why they're putting Dementors around the school."

"What are Dementors?" Hermione asked.

"They're big, floaty monsters," Astoria said. "Suck your soul out."

"Suck your soul out?"

Tracey made an 'O' with her mouth and breathed in deeply, making a hollow, gasping noise. "Like that," she said. "They suck your soul out."

"That doesn't sound safe…" Hermione contemplated, holding Crookshanks closer to her chest. "Why are they at Hogwarts?"

"To protect us," Daphne sighed, looking out the window at the dark clouds. "Because they did so well against Black in Azkaban."

"Is he just as terrible as the papers say, Draco?" asked Astoria. "Was your mother close with him?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Mother hadn't spoken to him for years, even before he was arrested. Not since Hogwarts, at least. Must be twenty years now."

"Why would your mum know him?" Hermione frowned.

"Draco's mother was born Narcissa Black," Daphne commented dryly. "Which makes her the cousin of one Sirius Black."

"She's related to him?" Hermione was shocked. " _You're_ related to a mass murderer?"  
"If it makes you feel any better, a lot of people are related to him. Half the purebloods on this train are, I'd think," shrugged Draco. "Doesn't mean we like it. Mother said he was disowned by the family before he even graduated Hogwarts."

Hermione supposed that in such a small population relation to some unsavory people could not be avoided. It still didn't make her feel better.

"Anyways, I think I need a little entertainment," Draco said, grinning. "Who's up to find some Weasleys?" Crabbe and Goyle guffawed. The rest of the cabin made a meek decline. "Oh, come on. Hermione?"

She shook her head. "Let's not start the fireworks so early. Let them make the first move."

"It's called a preemptive strike," Draco grumbled, leading Crabbe and Goyle out of the compartment.

Daphne shook her head a little, staring out the window. Hermione sighed. "They're going to get themselves hexed senseless."

"If they're lucky," muttered Tracey.

" _Fine_ ," Hermione got up, still holding Crookshanks, and followed the boys. She caught up to them in a second, Draco smirking.

"I knew you couldn't stay away."

"I'm only coming to make sure you get to Hogwarts in one piece," Hermione kept her chin up. "I'm not going to participate."

Draco kept smirking. They found their prey in a compartment not too far down the train. Potter was in the company of Ronald and Virginia Weasley – the two Weasleys Hermione wanted to see the least. But Draco flung open the door and strutted in.

"Well, well, look who it is, Potty and his pet Weasels." Crabbe and Goyle laughed. "Your father got his grubby hands on some gold this summer? Did your mother die of shock?"

Ronald stood quickly, placing himself between the Slytherins and the little redhead. Potter quickly followed suit. "None of your business," Ronald spat, glaring at Hermione. Crookshanks, still in her arms, tried to spring out at him. Hermione held him tighter. "And there's a teacher here, so don't try anything stupid."

There was, indeed, another person in the compartment. A shabby looking fellow was sleeping in the corner. If he was a professor, that meant he had to be the new Defence teacher, and that did not bode well for the year.

"Teacher?" Draco asked, peering dubiously at the man. "You sure, Weasley? I know you idolize anyone who can afford their own suitcase, but he doesn't look like much."

The Weasleys went red.

"Back off, Malfoy," Potter said, his wand clutched in his hand, though it wasn't raised. "Take your goons and go back wherever you came from."

"I only wanted to warn you," said Draco in an innocent voice. "There's a murderer on the loose. You should watch your back."

"You should watch your own," Ronald snarled as they left.

The corridors had emptied out considerably. It was the perfect time - far too long after leaving the station for any residual excitement, yet not yet near enough to Hogwarts for people to start getting jumpy. The boys had just reentered their compartment when the train rumbled to a stop. "We can't be there yet," said Hermione. The hallway was illuminated slightly by the cloudy, grey sky. Raindrops trickled down the windows. They definitely were not at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, the lights went dark. Crookshanks sprang from her arms. "Crookshanks," she hissed. "Come back here!"

Crookshanks darted into the gloom. Hermione found him standing several compartments down, hair standing up on his back. "Crookshanks!"

He didn't move. There was no one else out. Hermione took a step towards him, but stopped. She could see her breath in the air. Cold crept into her chest. Something was moving at the end of the hall.

It was slow at first. A shadow drifting towards her. But as it closed the distance, Hermione could see the shape. There was a head, hooded in black. Hands poked out of dark sleeves. But she couldn't see any legs. It just… floated there. And there was no face. Only darkness. A void. As if light could not penetrate the hood.

But something was there. Barely a hint of something. Eyes? Blue eyes. Piercing blue eyes. And there was a face – blood dripping from a gash down its cheek. A hand emerged from the shadows. It was bloody, too. Fingers reached for her. Grasped. A voice escaped the deathly face.

" _Granger_ …"

Hermione screamed.

She shouted a spell at the creature, but the cloaked being shrugged it off and continued for her. A long, bony hand extended towards her and Hermione's heart caught in her throat. Paralyzed by the sight, she toppled onto the floor. The hand was close. Waves of icy breeze wafted over her body and into her mouth, and it felt like a layer of frost had settled in her lungs. Every gasp of air filled her chest with pain. Shivering, shaking, Hermione was too terrified to move. A rattled breath escaped the deep darkness under the hood. Her vision blurred.

A silver bolt shot down the hallway. The shadowy figure was caught full in the chest and was bulled out of the train. Hermione gasped for warm air, her dread fading quickly, her lungs thawing. She closed her eyes a moment, trying to regain her composure. When she looked up, the face of the shabby man was staring down at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm… I'm fine," she said, pulling herself to her feet.

The man took something out of his pocket and Hermione heard a distinct crack. "Here, eat this. It'll help." He handed her part of a brown bar – chocolate – and patted her shoulder as he passed by.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"Can you believe Potter fainted?" Draco laughed.

Hermione clung to Crookshanks – who was mildly annoyed – tighter, trying to cover up her twitching. "It's not funny, Draco," she said.

"It's a little funny," he smirked. "I wonder where he is…" Draco craned his neck, trying to spot Potter.

"Let's just get a carriage," said Hermione. But Draco saw his prey and jumped off with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

"We don't need them," said Tracey.

"Yeah!" chimed Astoria.

"What are you doing here?" Daphne snapped.

"I want to ride with you."

Daphne crossed her arms and frowned. "First years are supposed to go with the half-giant on the boats."

"I don't want to go on a boat," pouted Astoria.

"Go," her sister commended, pointed off in the direction of the lake. Astoria huffed and walked off.

Hermione followed Tracey and Daphne to a carriage. She was about to climb in after them when she saw the horses for the first time. It looked like the blackened skeleton of a horse, except it had large bat-like wings and fangs, and its tail was swishing. Shiny black eyes stared back at her. "Hermione?" said Daphne. "You getting in?"  
"What the hell is that?" she pointed at the horse-thing.

Tracey leaned out of the carriage to get a look. "What is what?"

"That… thing," Hermione jabbed her finger again.

"What thing?"

"Can't you see it?" Hermione gaped. "It's right _there_! The skeleton-horse – pulling the carriage!"

Daphne took a look. "The carriages are pulling themselves, Hermione."

"But it's right there," she pointed again. "You don't see it?"

"No, they don't," someone said from behind her. Nott walked up to the carriage and climbed in.

"You grace us with your presence," Tracey muttered.

"Come on, Hermione, let's not be late for the feast," Daphne said.

Hermione reluctantly got in and sat down, still peering out at the horse. "It's right there…"

"Nothing's there," said Tracey.

"You saw it, though, right Nott?"

The boy sat huddled in the corner, looking absentmindedly out the window.

"Right Nott? What was it?"

He shook slightly from side to side as the carriage ran over uneven ground. "A thestral," he said after a pause.

"A thestral?"

He nodded.

"Why can't everyone see them?"

"Because not everyone has seen death," he said quietly.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"Granger!"

"Potter!"

The twin shouts could be heard over the bustling of the entire student body. McGonagall and Snape were standing together, the Scottish witch severe as ever and Hermione's head of house with a venomous look. _This_ can't _be bad,_ Hermione grumbled to herself.

She pushed her way back upstream, joined Potter by the professors and were led upstairs and down some corridors and into McGonagall's office. "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say you both were taken ill on the train."

"I was attacked by a demon," Hermione corrected, but fell silent at Snape's displeased look.

"Indeed," McGonagall murmured.

Hermione heard a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey entered.

"I'm fine, I don't need –" blustered Potter.

"Oh, it's you, is it?" Pomfrey asked, making her way quickly to the boy's side and fussing over him.

 _Typical_ , thought Hermione. _Always about Potter_.

"It was a Dementor, Poppy."

The school nurse clucked disapprovingly, looking Potter over from head to toes. Hermione made a face and looked away.

"I'm _fine_!" Potter shouted, jumping up.

"He should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Pomfrey.

"I've already had some –"

Snape coughed abruptly. "I believe _my_ student was also attacked on the train."

"Of course, of course," Pomfrey bustled over. "The thing is, she doesn't look all that bad. Potter, well, he's all clammy," she pressed her hand to Hermione's forehead. "Yes, see, not much there at all. You've had chocolate?"

Hermione shook her head. "My parents taught be not to accept candy from strange disheveled men in threadbare clothes."

"Miss Granger –" McGonagall said, aghast. "Professor Lupin is no _strange man,_ and his wardrobe and appearance is none of your concern!"

Hermione ignored her, looking up at Snape. He acted quickly to conceal a feral grin. "The girl has common sense," he murmured. "Under different… circumstances, Miss Granger would be completely correct to refuse anything from Lupin."

McGonagall frowned, glaring at Snape. "Are you quite sure neither requires additional care, Poppy?"

"Chocolate for the girl would do some good, but both should be fine."

"Very well, Potter, you may return to the feast."

Potter stood and followed Pomfrey out.

McGonagall shifted her gaze to Hermione. "I am told you intend to begin hosting a tutoring section?"

"It was suggested," said Hermione.

"Where do you intend to hold these meetings?" McGonagall continued.

Hermione shrugged. "The common room, probably."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Unfortunately, I don't think that will work."

"Why not?" said Hermione.

"It is school protocol that no one house receives unfair academic treatment."

Hermione looked to Snape, who was fuming like he knew what was coming but couldn't stop it. "I don't follow."

McGonagall peered at Hermione over her spectacles. "Having the group in the Slytherin common room would exclude the three other houses from a valuable resource. Therefore, I must insist that you hold your tutoring section in a neutral location."

Hermione glowered at her. "A valuable resource? I'm a valuable resource to them now?"

"Your marks are exemplary, Miss Granger. If you are offering your services to needy students in an organized manner, it does not seem right to limit those students to Slytherin."

Hermione stood sharply. "If they want my help, maybe they should have accepted it when I _offered_ it two years ago. As it is, I reserve the right to withhold my _valuable_ _resource_ from anyone I wish to."

"Miss Granger, I assure you, this is not a request. You will be open to tutoring _all_ houses or none at all."

"As it happens, I know just the spot," Snape said from behind McGonagall. "There is an abandoned classroom in the dungeons that should suit Miss Granger's needs." Hermione blinked and looked at him. He was regarding her coolly.

"The dungeons?" McGonagall asked skeptically.

"There is no password to the classroom." Snape said softly, "I don't see why Miss Granger should be inconvenienced by having to cater to everyone else."

McGonagall considered it for a moment. "I suppose not. If you agree, Miss Granger?"

"What do I get out of this?"

"Excuse me?" said McGonagall.

"I don't want to help Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. I could just… not do this." She saw Snape shake his head behind McGonagall. He already intimated that this was _required_ – how legitimate forced tutoring actually _was_ , Hermione wasn't sure – but did McGonagall know that? "Why should I do it?"

"You are helping your fellow student."

"But what do I get from this other than a bunch of children asking me to do their homework for them? There's no O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. test for tutoring, is there? And if I'm made to surrender my right to refuse service, I need something in return."

McGonagall bristled. "You would deny students the help they need on petty spite alone?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Spite, yes. Petty? No, not at all. This is well earned."

"Miss Granger, I must say, I am disappointed," she shook her head slowly.

"So was I my first year," Hermione shot back. "They didn't want any part of my because I was a snake. I'm just returning the favor."

"What would you ask for?"

Hermione smiled. "I want a pass to the restricted section. With no expiration date."

* * *

 **My philosophy is to make the best of canon events until Hermione can obliterate them. No time-turner for Hermione, but she still gets a talk from McGonagall.**


	6. Basilisk in a Cabinet

**A/N: Ehh... did I say this was 18 chapters? I meant 19.**

* * *

 **Chapter VI**

 **Basilisk in a Cabinet**

"You got mauled by a _what_?" Hermione asked, staring at the blond boy laying on the hospital bed, his arm in a sling. Most of the second year Slytherins were crowded around his bed.

"A hippogriff. One of that oaf's vile creatures," said Draco. "Can you believe he thought that was a safe first class to teach? If my father was on the board of governors, he would not allow this."

Pansy clung to Draco's uninjured arm looking very sympathetic. "It must hurt _so_ much."

Tracy poked at Draco's arm and he didn't flinch. "Yes, _so_ much," she stifled a laugh.

Draco made a face. "Don't touch me."

"Is that what you said to the hippogriff?" This time Tracy did laugh out loud.

"If you aren't here to support me in my time of trouble, you can leave, Davis," Draco sniffed.

"You'll be fine," Madam Pomfrey called from across the hospital wing.

"I was savaged by a vicious beast," Draco shouted back. "Just because Dumbledore likes to keep dangerous pets doesn't mean they should be teaching students!"

"All right, out. Out!" Pomfrey scuttled over and started shooing the Slytherin away from Draco's bed. "I don't need a bunch of gawkers clogging up my hospital wing."

"Have fun in classes," Draco winked at them.

"Oh, no. You're not getting out of homework," Hermione tutted, placing a stack of parchment on his bedside table. "I've brought you everything you need."

"Homework?" Draco blanched. "In my condition?"

"Yes. If you were in a _real_ class, you wouldn't need your arm sewn back together," she scowled.

"Just because you enjoy dusty, old classrooms, doesn't mean we all do," said Pansy. Hermione stuck out her tongue bugged her eyes, making the face she thought Pansy wore every day.

"Or maybe you should stop trying to provoke Potter and his friends," Daphne purred to Draco, ignoring Pansy.

"Hey, they deserve it."

"No doubt, but I find it tiring."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione's tutoring group met for the first time that Friday. It felt odd to have other people in _her_ classroom. The room also had new desks installed and was a lot cleaner than it was last year.

The students were a motley bunch. There was a Ravenclaw, a girl with white-blond hair; two Gryffindors, a mousy boy with brown hair and a girl with long curly black hair; and a Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley – but most of them were Slytherin, and most didn't look happy to be there. Except Astoria. The little Greengrass was ecstatic.

Hermione dropped her bag next to the podium at the front of the classroom. "How many of you are here because Snape or some other professor is making you?"

After a moment, almost everyone raised their hands. In fact, only three hand stayed down. Astoria was one, as was the Ravenclaw, and, surprisingly, so was the Gryffindor girl.

She picked a piece of parchment from her bag and handed it to the nearest person. "Sign your name so you can prove you were here." Hermione watched the parchment circle around the room and back to her. If she was honest, Hermione would admit that she hadn't prepared for this at all, which surprised herself. Preparation was usually her strong suit. However, she was confident in her ability to answer first-year questions off the top of her head. "So what do you want to do?" There were shrugs around the room. "This isn't some class that I have a lesson plan for. I'm here because Professor Snape wants me to help you with whatever you need help with. So, any questions?"

Astoria's hand shot into the air. "Are you going to teach us how to break someone's nose with a spell? Daph said you can do that!"

Hermione frowned. "No."

"Why not?" her face dropped.

"Talk to Daphne about it. I don't know what she'd think of me teaching you violent spells. Anyone else?"

The Gryffindor girl raised her hand. "I love your hair."

Hermione blinked. "Thanks…? But that's not really a question."

The girl shrugged.

"No one has any questions?"

"Shall we introduce ourselves to each other?" said the fair-haired Ravenclaw in an airy voice.

Hermione hadn't thought of that. "I suppose so. Why don't you start?"

"Oh, okay. My name is Luna," she smiled and looked to the next person.

"Colin Creevy," the mousy boy said cheerfully.

"I'm Romilda Vane," said the Gryffindor girl.

"Justin."

That was the non-Slytherins out of the way. She already knew Astoria. A pair of eerie looking second year twins she had seen around the common room were also there, Flora and Hestia Carrow. The last boy was a first year called Harper.

"So, if you don't have anything to ask me, I don't think we really need to be here."

Several Slytherins made to grab their bags but the girl, Romilda, raised her hand. "Do you know Harry Potter?"

The whole room turned to Hermione. "Yes, I know Potter."

"What's he like?" she asked, leaning forward.

"This isn't some celebrity gossip group. If you want to know–"

"I heard you went into the Chamber of Secrets with him. Didn't he slay a basilisk and save your life?" The girl had a sly smile on her lips.

Hermione bristled. Potter was most definitely alive because of _her_. "He didn't _save_ me. The boy is inept, arrogant, and only escaped death by sheer luck. It doesn't take Superman to stab a blind snake with a sword."

"But Harry did kill the snake," the other Gryffindor piped up.

"Does it matter?" Hermione crossed her arms. "If you want to know the whole story, go ask Potter."

"Harry won't talk about it," the boy said sadly.

"So why do you think I will?"

"Harry is too humble to say anything," Romilda said. "Slytherins have no problem bragging."

"You mean he's too dumb to make up a better story?"

"Harry isn't dumb," shot the boy.

"He charges into a basilisk's den with no idea how to kill it. That is dumb."

"But you did, too, didn't you?"

"I did nothing of the sort. I was pulled down against my will. You Gryffindors can keep your heroic rescues." Hermione hefted her bag onto her shoulder. "Now, if you are quite done, I have things to do."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin said when he entered the classroom. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

The shabby man led the class down the hall and around the corner to the staff room.

"Inside, please."

The class filed in to the long room. A wardrobe on the far wall rattled of the wall.

"Nothing to worry about. There's a boggart in there. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks – I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. _This_ one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is_ a boggart?"

The class turned their heads ever so slightly to look to Hermione. Her hand was already in the air. She didn't read those textbooks for fun.

Well, she did. But not _just_ for fun.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever tit thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within as not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Has anyone spotted it?"

Hermione's hand was up again, and no one else volunteered. "With so many people around, it won't know which shape to assume."

"Precisely. It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake – tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into a half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is _laughter_. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… _riddikulus!_ "

" _Riddikulus!_ " said the class together.

"Good. Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. Can I have a volunteer?" No one put their hands up. "How about you?" he pulled Zabini out of the group. "Blaise, right? What would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Zabini clenched his jaw. "I don't know."

"Come now, there must be something?"

"I don't know," Zabini repeated.

"Well, let's think of something, then. Are you afraid of… spiders? Snakes? Maybe a troll?"

Zabini shifted uncomfortably, mumbling something.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" said Lupin.

"I don't want to drown."

"Drown, hmm?" Lupin scratched his chin. "I don't think the boggart will turn into a giant puddle, but maybe some aquatic creature? Say it does. When the boggart comes out and turns into some sea creature, you're going to make it act like the real creature would if it were out of the water, flopping around. Okay?"

Lupin turned to the rest of the class. "When Blaise is successful, the boggart will turn to each of us next. I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scare you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical."

Hermione frowned. Scared her the most? Well, a nuclear war wouldn't be fun. Watford being relegated to the non-league conferences? Or a basilisk? A creature that could kill with just its eyes? Yes, that was dangerous.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin. "Blaise, we're going to back away. I'll call the next person forward…"

The class stepped back, leaving Blaise alone in front of the wardrobe. He was fiddling with his wand nervously but his face was a manufactured calm.

"On the count of three, Blaise. One – two – three – _now_!"

The wardrobe door snapped open. From of the darkness a trident poked out. Then a slimy green arm, and then the body of a mermaid, except it had a horrid reptilian face. It opened its mouth, full of sharp, yellow fangs, and screeched. The class covered their ears.

Blaise raised his wand and shouted, " _Riddikulus_!"

With a crack, the mermaid was on the ground, clawing at its throat and gills, wheezing for breath and flopping around.

Professor Lupin shouted, "Pansy! Forward!"

Pansy scuttled up and Blaise walked back. Another crack, and the writhing mermaid spun into an ugly goblin, leering at Pansy. "Miss Parkinson!" it cackled.

" _Riddikulus!_ " she squeaked. The goblin tried speaking, but the only thing that came out of its mouth were goose honks. The class laughed.

"Vincent!"

Crabbe stalked up and the goblin grew into the shape of a massive dragon. It growled and spread its wings and – _crack!_ – it screamed, its wings crumpled and it fell to the ground.

"Daphne, come on!"

Daphne stepped up. The wounded dragon snapped into the shape of Astoria. Tears were flowing down her bruised cheeks. "Daph!" she sobbed, "Help me…"

" _Riddikulus!_ " said Daphne, her voice shaking.

Astoria's words caught in her throat and she looked surprised. Feeling her throat and looking around, she tried speaking again but couldn't.

"Gregory!"

Daphne hurried to the back of the class looking pale.

 _Crack!_ Astoria turned into the body of a lion and the face of a woman. The head arched an eyebrow at Goyle. "What –?" was all she had time for as Goyle shouted the spell. All of a sudden, the lion's fur disappeared and the sphinx tried to cover up her naked animal body.

Hermione was starting to wonder how any of this could be frightening if everyone knew it was fake.

"Tracey!"

She skipped towards the boggart. With a crack, the sphinx transformed into a large, spinning dark circle in the air. It took Hermione a moment to recognize it as a black hole. _Someone's gotten into the Muggle sciences_ , she thought.

" _Riddikulus!_ "

The black hole stopped spinning, let out something that sounded like a belch, and shot out what looked like the remains of a half-eaten burger. Hermione snorted.

"Draco!"

The blond boy stepped up. The boggart snapped into the image of Lucius Malfoy in expensive black robes, holding his walking stick. Draco stared at him for a moment. "Draco," he purred. "I expected more from you… your behavior has not been suitable –"

" _Riddikulus_!"

Lucius Malfoy went rigid, his robes disappearing, replaced with a slinky red dress that clung to his body, complete with pearls and high heels. The room roared in laughter. Draco walked back, grinning, then froze. "If _any_ of you speak of this, I will kill you."

Hermione laughed. She was going to treasure that image for the rest of her life.

"Hermione!"

She hesitated for a second. _Basilisk time_ , she thought. She turned to the wardrobe, but there was no basilisk. Not even a boggart of any kind.

Only Professor Dumbledore, who was examining the wardrobe. He turned around, seeming to notice the class for the first time. "Oh, Miss Granger," he said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh… class, sir. Professor Lupin brought us here." She looked to the professor for reassurance, but he was considering Dumbledore with an odd look.

"Oh, no doubt," Dumbledore said with a smile. "But I wasn't asking about _here_ the room. I was asking about here in _Hogwarts_."

Hermione blinked. "It's the school year…" she said uncertainly.

"I know that, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, his smile fading. "Why are you here? I thought I made my wishes clear last year."

"Last year?" Hermione asked quietly, feeling her heart beating faster.

"The basilisk was loose for months," Dumbledore stepped closer. "You don't really believe that I had no idea? That I never _knew_ what was in my own school? I even told Gilderoy to take you into the Chamber…"

Hermione gaped. Her heart was pounding on her chest, trying to get out.

"But, alas, I should have known I'd have to get rid of you myself," Dumbledore shook his head, reaching into his robes. "You are much too clever a Mudblood for Gilderoy to take care of."

Before Dumbledore could pull out his wand, Hermione thrust hers in his face. " _Bombarda!_ " she screamed.

She heard a crunch of bone and Dumbledore fell to his knees. His head was smashed together, but it was changing. Ripples spread across his face. His hair turned black and started falling out. His skin started peeling. In a moment, the scarred face of Gilderoy Lockhart stared back at her. Blood bubbled from his mouth. "Granger…" he whispered.

Lockhart lunged for her.

Hermione screamed and flung herself backwards. A bloody hand caught her ankle and she toppled over.

"Granger!" he coughed louder.

" _Bombarda!_ " she shouted, creating a crater in his skull, but he didn't let go.

"Granger…" his other hand slid forward, holding a little black diary. The little book flipped open to a blank page. Something black started to emerge from the pages.

In a few seconds a boy was standing over her. His hair was perfect. His face was handsome. He smiled at her. "Hello, Hermione," Tom Riddle said softly, crouching down. "You look beautiful."

Hermione screamed, slashing at him. " _Confri_ –"

Her wand jumped out of her hand. A rush of air hit her cheek and a long black cloak swept between her and Tom. The boy stood. His Hogwarts uniform transformed into black robes. His face did not change, but his sallow skin seemed to stretch tight across his cheek bones. His eyes flashed red and he bared his teeth.

Snape swung his wand savagely. Tom hurtled backwards and into the wardrobe, the door slamming behind him.

The room was dead silent, except for Hermione's hyperventilating. She was certain everyone could hear the blood pumping through her veins. Hermione rolled onto her knees and burring her face in her arms, hoping no one saw the tears.

"Still terrorizing students, are we, Lupin?" said the cool voice of Severus Snape.

"This is Defence, Severus," Lupin said calmly. "Dealing with fear comes with the territory."

"I suppose you can't teach an old dog new tricks," said Snape. "But at least you didn't set four boggarts on a single student. Progress, Lupin – though perhaps you don't have the resources you once had..."

Lupin winced. "No need to make a scene, Severus."

"No, you've done a fantastic job of it already. Your friends would be howling with pride," Snape snarled.

Hermione felt a hand latch on to the back of her robes and haul her to her feet. Snape pushed her through the crowd.

"Class isn't over, Severus," Lupin called.

Snape paused at the door and fixed Lupin with a savage sneer. "Better keep _teaching_ , then." He pulled Hermione out of the staff room.

* * *

 **Hermione's boggart is inspired a bit by Applied Cultural Anthropology, if it seemed familiar. My own spin, of course.**


	7. Snake got your tongue?

**A/N:** **Regarding the boggart lesson: I'm fairly sure we only see Gryffindors in that class in the book, so an all Slytherin class is to be expected. Snape is in the staffroom to get a cup of tea, just like he is in the book. Except this time he shows up at the end of the Slytherin class instead of being there at the beginning of the Gryffindor class.**

* * *

 **Chapter VII**

 **Snake got your tongue?**

Snape's office was just as dark as she remembered. Even in the afternoon there was no way for natural light to reach this section of the dungeon. Nothing by solid stone in all directions.

Neither had spoken on their way down there. Snape had set off at once and Hermione followed, not because of any audible order but because it felt like what was required of her. Snape didn't object at any point, so she assumed that her feeling was right. But now Hermione was hoping that he did not require too much speech from her. Detention would be preferable, at this point. Though she didn't know which school rule she broke. Unless smashing the likeness of the headmaster was illegal.

Snape settled down in his chair. Hermione hovered near the door until he motioned for her to sit as well. Shadows danced across his face in the pale candlelight. "Combustible curses are ill-suited for dealing with boggarts," he said at last.

Hermione felt an involuntary twitch in her leg. "I… didn't know – I didn't realize…"

"What? That you could have severely injured the entire class?" His voice was cold and hard. "Or that it was a boggart?"

She dropped her eyes to the floor. "Professor…"

"I don't know which would be worse, Granger. Did you _forget_ what your enemy was, or did you cast a spell without judging the ramifications?"

"Sir, I know –"

"Do you? Which one, Granger? That it was a boggart, a harmless creature? Or did you use a curse not knowing what would happen?"

"I… knew both, sir. I just, I wasn't thinking, Professor."

"You knew the class was about boggarts?" Hermione nodded. "You know the spell to deal with a Boggart?" She nodded again. "You knew the effects of the curse?" A nod again. "Then why, _pray tell_ , Miss Granger, did you act in such a way?"

" _I don't know_!" she shouted. "I don't know. I _wasn't_ thinking."

"And why not? How did you _believe_ that those images were real?"

"I just went numb, Professor. I just…" she stopped. This wasn't how things should have been going. She was the one crying on the floor not five minutes previously. "Why is this _my_ fault now?"

Snape growled. "Because, like it or not, Lupin's lesson was _not_ above the third year skill level. You should have dealt with the boggart easily, Granger. You've faced worse."

"But that's the point, isn't it?" she cried. "I've faced worse. That made the boggart worse. The others… they saw a dragon. A black hole… They see things that clearly weren't real. They knew those things couldn't possibly be there. Their fears were so absurd it was easy to see through them. I'm afraid of _what actually happened_ , Professor. My fears _actually_ happened. My fears are _real_. They are real and when I saw them, they _could_ have been happening."

"But they _weren't_ ," said Snape, his black eyes unfeeling. "You should have known that a class about boggarts would contain boggarts. You should have used the spell and banished it at the first sign."

"I didn't see _you_ use it," she shot back.

"I am a grown wizard, Granger. A sorcerer. I use magic how I will. Were I a third year, I would have done as the teacher instructed."

"So I should have found something _funny_ about it? How people hate me? How I… how someone _died_?"

Hermione averted her eyes from his stone gaze.

"Where did you learn that curse, Granger?"

"I read about it," she said through a stiff jaw.

"Where?"

"In a book."

"Don't be flippant with me, girl," Snape snarled.

"I spend a lot of time in the library, _sir,_ " she seethed. "I don't remember."

She heard a low growl emanate from his throat. "I should like to know how a third year came upon such a spell."

"I come upon many things, Professor," she said. "It shouldn't be a surprise."

"Indeed," he drummed his fingers on the table. "Perhaps McGonagall has given you too much of a free hand." Hermione looked up with furrowed brows. "Maybe that restricted pass is being abused."

"No," Hermione almost jumped out of her seat. "It's not. I didn't use it to learn curses, Professor. I've barely used it at all!"

Snape's lip curled. "Oh? Then where did you find the curse, Granger?"

"It was last year, Professor," said Hermione. "The pass had nothing to do with it."

"If it's all the same… I'd like to know."

Hermione sat still, hesitating for a moment. Was the pass worth it? Maybe he was bluffing. It was McGonagall's name on the pass anyway. She could get others, too. With expiration dates, though… "I told Dumbledore," she said at last. "You can ask him." It wasn't the complete truth, but Dumbledore could no doubt connect the dots to Tom.

Snape's eyebrows popped up. "Dumbledore?"

She nodded, staring at the floor.

After an eternity, Snape stood up. "Very well, you may go." Hermione stood quickly and made for the door. "Miss Granger, in the future I expect you to recognize what is real and what is not. Ignorance will not protect you."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione thought on Professor Snape's words over a cup of pumpkin juice at dinner. Not the most helpful pep talk he had given her. But she was thankful he did not inquire about what her boggart meant. Perhaps Dumbledore had filled him in on Tom.

Hermione cringed. The pumpkin juice was off. It was not quite the sweet drink she expected. It felt almost carbonated. Her tongue was a bit frizzy. The elves must have messed up for once. The rest of the food was adequate, though she wasn't particularly hungry. It seemed her classmates shared her lack of appetite. Many were hunched over their plates, picking at food aimlessly. Perhaps haunted by their own boggarts. Hermione hoped they weren't being awkward because of her. She would rather everyone just forget everything. A mass _obliviate_ would do.

Hermione looked up at the clock. Her tutoring section was due to start in a few minutes. She sighed at took her leave of her classmates.

She had turned her tutoring section into a study hall. Having students across three different years made it impossible for Hermione to focus on anything that was constructive for the whole group, so she made them do their homework by themselves or in a group and ask her questions when they needed to.

Astoria was often both the most agreeable and most annoying person of the group. It was enjoyable to have an admirer to counterbalance Potter's bandwagon, but sometimes Hermione just wanted to be left alone. And Astoria did _not_ do 'leave alone'.

So she spent most of the time sitting at a table with Justin reading her textbooks and doing her own homework. Justin was a diligent worker, but still required some help with the lessons he missed the previous year.

Hermione arrived in the dungeon classroom. Most of her charges were already there. She set her stuff down and took a seat across from Justin. He was already at work and didn't bother to look up.

"I heard you had to face a boggart," Astoria said, bouncing up to Hermione.

"Did you?" Hermione said hesitantly.

Astoria nodded enthusiastically. "Daph said Professor Lupin had one in a cabinet."

"That's true," she said. A sour taste filled her mouth.

She beamed. "I hope we get that lesson. What was yours? Or Tracey's?"

"Did Daphne not tell you?"

"She said that hers was having to spend every day of her life with me," Astoria shrugged. "So I'm not sure if I can trust her completely."

Hermione bit back a laugh. Daphne would say that. "I don't think anyone wants to talk about any of it. It's kind of personal."

Astoria pouted. "So she's not afraid of me?"

"No, Daphne is not afraid of spending time with you," sighed Hermione.

"That's good. But what are you afraid of? Were you afraid of anything?" her eyes bulged. "Was it a _basilisk_? Did it petrify everybody?"

"Petrify? A boggart can't turn into a _real_ basilisk, Astoria."

"Oh," she said. "But was it?"

Before Hermione could answer, a loud snort came from the back of the class. She looked over to see a boy lounged in a chair and sneering. He was wearing a Slytherin badge but Hermione didn't recognize him. His hair was greasy and slicked back and he seemed to be quite full of himself. "You can't honestly care what the mudblood is afraid of, can you, Greengrass?"

The room was quiet all of a sudden. The scratching of quills had stopped and everyone was watching Hermione with expectation. Hermione's hand twitched towards her wand, but she stopped it. "Who are you?" she asked.

The boy scoffed. "The name's Vaisey. Newest addition to the Slytherin Quidditch team. But I know you. You're Malfoy's mudblood s–"

" _That_ 's not a nice word," said the little blonde Ravenclaw. Her face was hidden behind a giant Charms textbook.

Vaisey curled his lip. "No one asked you, Looney."

The book lowered slowly, revealing tranquil blue eyes. She tilted her head and said in a lyrical voice, "I know. I wasn't answering a question."

Vaisey stared at her for a moment. Luna stared right back. "You're a freak, Lovegood," he said, and turned back to Astoria. "Just because Malfoy surrenders to his base instincts doesn't mean you should follow him. Use your head, Greengrass. Filth with decent marks is still filth."

Hermione stood up. "If decent marks make me top of my class, I shudder to think what yours are."

The boy shrugged. "There are more important things in life. Blood, for one."

Hermione walked closer. Her fingers closed around her wand. Something was on the tip of her tongue. "I can make you bleed, if you want." _Please give me a reason_.

"I'm here for the same reason everyone else is. Snape has a pet project and needs subjects to experiment on. I bet he thinks that if Dumbledore let's that oaf teach, why not you? I don't know what's worse, a mudblood pretends to teach magic, or a half-breed who actually thinks he can."

Hermione was standing over him now. Her tongue was fizzing, yearning to shout something. She could smell the overbearing odor of teenage boy all around him. The stink of sweat and self-entitlement. She raised her wand, preparing a threat – but only a breathy hiss came out.

Something flicked out of her mouth. Then back in. She tasted the air and at once she was disoriented, but knew exactly where everyone in the room was.

Vaisey jumped in his seat. "What the fuck was that?" Hermione tried to speak again, but she only heard the hiss. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth. She smelled Vaisey's fear as he jumped again, this time out of his seat. "Get away from me, mudblood." He snatched his bag and ran out the door.

Hermione's tongue flicked again. She reached a finger to her lips. And felt something. Something forked.

"Were you trying to speak Parseltongue?" said the ethereal Ravenclaw, tittering on the edge of her seat. "I think you accent still needs some work."

Hermione walked out of the room abruptly. Something was wrong. _Obviously_ wrong. She wasn't supposed to have a snake tongue. Only snakes were. And she was only symbolically a snake. She was halfway to the common room when Astoria bounded up next to her. "You left your bag. Does this mean study hall is over?"

Hermione grunted, taking her bag from the girl. She couldn't care more if they stuck around in the room. Her mouth was filled with an awful taste.

Astoria tugged on her sleeve. "Can you teach me how to do that? It was _brilliant._ "

With her mouth clamped shut, Hermione grabbed Astoria by the robes and pushed her back down the hall.

"Oh, I get it. Study," Astoria tapped her forehead. "I have to learn on my own. Got it!" The girl skipped off and Hermione continued on.

But when she rounded the corner she was faced with a pair of redheaded roadblocks.

"Granger!" one said cheerfully.

"Fancy meeting you here," said the other.

Hermione shoved her way through and they fell in beside her.

"You know, we never got to see you last year."

"You know, after the whole Chamber thing."

Hermione glanced sidelong at one of the twins. A giant grin was plastered on his face. She winced in pain. Her mouth started to feel like it was being pierced by daggers.

"We never got the chance, you see."

"To thank you."

"For saving her."

"Our sister."

"Ginny."

Hermione's whole head twitched violently as she felt something wriggle in her mouth. She walked past the Slytherin door.

"Our sister, you see, is very dear to us."

"We got to thank Harry. Wonderful boy, he is."

"He risked his own life to save Ginny."

Hermione took the stairs up to the main floor two at a time, her redheaded companions not far behind. It felt like her tongue was on fire.

"Harry killed a basilisk to save her, you know."

"Better the snake than our dear Ginny, bless her soul."

"But he said you helped."

"In your own way."

"I guess we wanted to thank you."

The twins fell away as Hermione sped up to a run at the top of the stairs. "So this is us thanking you." She sprinted to the hospital wing, almost flattening Madam Pomfrey as she whipped open the doors.

"My dear girl!" she whooped. "Whatever is the problem?"

Hermione seized her by the arm and opened her mouth wide, groaning in pain.

"Oh _Merlin_!" Pomfrey cried. "Lay down, girl. Lay down!" She hustled Hermione over to the nearest bed. Hermione clung to her, panting. The fire had spread to her entire mouth. Every inch was burning. "Let go for a second, dear," she said, unhinging Hermione's claws and bustling over to a cabinet. She returned with a bottle holding dark blue liquid and a bowl. "Here. This should take care of the swelling. Try not to swallow."

Hermione threw her head back and filled her mouth with the inky liquid. She swished it around, immediately feeling the burning sensation fade to a dull smolder, and spat it out into the bowl.

"Let me take a look." Pomfrey opened Hermione's mouth and poked her wand in. "Merlin, whatever happened to you?"

Hermione grunted.

"Well, whatever it was, I think I can deal with it. Your sense of taste may be a bit off for a few weeks, though."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione returned late to the Slytherin common room with her mouth perfectly human again. The fire at the center of the room crackled and the house had settled into a quiet dose. She walked quickly across the room. She wanted nothing more than to return to her dorm and settle in to bed. She wouldn't even mind listening to Tracey lark about Quidditch. Anything normal would do.

But as she reached the stairs down to the dorms, someone caught her arm.

"Where've you been?"

Hermione half turned to find Draco there, looking suspicious and worried at the same time. She shrugged and jumped down the stairs.

"Vaisey said you did something in your tutoring thing," he said, following her.

She snorted. "You listen to that kid?"

"Astoria said the same thing."

"It was nothing."

"It doesn't –"

"It was a prank," she said.

"I didn't know you had a sense of humor." She knew he was trying on a silly grin.

"I don't," said Hermione, turning right down to the girls' dorms. Draco could only follow her so far.

"Come on, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

Draco caught her wrist and pulled her back. They had just reached the first torch holder on the wall. The stone snakes that wrapped around the hanging shuffled to life with a grating stone-on-stone reverberation. Green eyes fixed on Draco. He watched them warily, but did not retreat. "Is this about the boggart?"

"No," she said, maybe too quickly.

"It's not real."

"I know that," Hermione tugged speculatively with her arm. Draco didn't let go.

"If you want to talk…"

"I'm not going to tell your father about the whole dress thing."

Draco shook his head. "I don't care…I mean… whatever yours was, it was worse than mine."

"I don't want to talk about it," said Hermione.

"I only meant…"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione said more firmly. She unlatched his hand from her wrist. "Just… Thank you, but I don't."

He frowned, but let her pull away. Hermione returned to her room. Tracey and Pansy were sitting on Millicent's bed, hunched over some magazine, while the larger girl dug through her trunk. As Hermione entered the space between their two beds, she saw that Daphne was at her desk, reading from the charms textbook. Hermione slipped out of her shoes, shed her robes and climbed onto her bed. She didn't even want to change before going to bed. Hermione held her wand to her chest. She closed her eyes and tried to shut everything but her breathing and heartbeat out. She remembered that it was only one day. Only one day. Tomorrow should be different. Must be different. Will be different.

"Are you okay?" Daphne's voice was so soft Hermione barely heard her. She opened her eyes and looked over. Daphne fiddled with a page of her textbook and glanced up at her.

"I'm fine," muttered Hermione, turning her gaze to the ceiling of her bed.

"You don't look well."

"I'm fine," she repeated.

After a few moments, Hermione realized Daphne was now perched on the side of her bed. "Lupin shouldn't have done that. To any of us – least of all you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Hermione, turning towards the other girls. Millicent was retrieving more magazines from her trunk and handing them up to Tracey. For all that Hermione could tell, they weren't in English.

"I let Astoria down," Daphne said quietly.

"She didn't seem disappointed earlier," Hermione mumbled.

"No, my boggart. I'm afraid she… I'm afraid I'll do something that will get her hurt."

Hermione turned back to the girl. She was looking down, but not at Hermione. She was focusing somewhere near Hermione's pillow. "Like what?"

Daphne made a noncommittal motion with her arms. "Something. I don't know. She's my sister. I'm supposed to look out for her. But she's so…"

"So Astoria," said Hermione.

She sighed. "Exactly. My parents expect us to… I want to protect her and I'm afraid I can't." Daphne brought her knees up to her chin and looked over them at Hermione. "I understand that you'd rather forget... but if you need someone to talk to..."

Hermione shook her head. "Not now."

Daphne nodded but did not move from her spot. "Lupin should have stepped in to help you."

"I should have known it wasn't real," said Hermione.

"All the same, I'm not impressed by him."

Hermione smiled at her and she smiled back. "Not at all."

Their roommates exploded into fits of giggles over their magazines. Hermione was grateful that they were too preoccupied to intrude.

* * *

 **I had to split this chapter in two because I needed too much to happen in a small time frame, so if it feels a bit weird, it's probably because I'm splicing together bits that didn't fit anywhere else. That's kind of how I feel about he whole of this year... :( Hope it all makes sense to you guys but the show must go on. Things will get better as we move forward.**

 **There have been questions as to why Draco changed tune in the previous year. There is a reason and it's in there there to be found. Hermione doesn't see or know everything that happens, and quite a bit happens beyond her comprehension. If there are questions that relate to these happenings that I've given clues about or intend to bring up in later chapters/books, I don't want to spoil them by just telling you. Most of them aren't integral to understanding the story, and if they are they will come out of the woodwork at a later date, so don't worry if you don't connect the sparsely laid dots immediately.**

 **Snape is harsh. Snape is a dick. Snape thinks Hermione shouldn't get incapacitated by a boggart.**


	8. Black Night

**A/N: I'm not completely thrilled with the way the last chapter came out, so I might go back and edit it at some point. Nothing plot-related is wrong with it so I might take a while to go back.**

 **My prediction about Crookshanks came true already. Forgot about the poor bugger.**

 **Anyway, speaking of plot... It's back - kind of.**

* * *

 **Chapter VIII**

 **Black Night**

"Can't I come?" Astoria pleaded. "I won't make any trouble."

"No," said Daphne. "You're not allowed, and even if you were, you wouldn't be going with me."

Hermione's sense of taste had been off for a few weeks, but it came back in time for the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. No one had bothered her about her boggart. Indeed, it seemed like everyone had forgotten that whole class had even happened. Hermione was relieved. Her only concern now were those damned Weasleys, and they hadn't tried anything else after the snake-tongue incident. She didn't know how they had managed it, but she would have been impressed had she not been their target. Obviously not all

The group of Slytherin third years filed through the great castle doors to the courtyard beyond. Filch was checking off permission forms and McGonagall was talking to an agitated Potter.

"No form, no visiting the village. That's the rule," McGonagall said.

"But Professor, if you said I could go –"

"But I don't say so," she shook her head. "That's my final word." McGonagall turned and walked off. Potter stood there fuming.

"What's wrong, Potter? Do they think you will faint again if you go near the Dementors?" Draco called. "Or they don't want you going after Black?"

Potter spun around, red in the face. "What are you on about now, Malfoy?"

"Oh, nothing, really. It's just, if it were me, I wouldn't let a little form get in my way," Draco smirked.

Potter glared at him, then stomped off.

"He's more fun when the Weasel is with him," Draco sighed.

"The Weasel is more fun," Nott corrected.

"Meet you at the Three Broomsticks for lunch, then?" Tracey called as she and Daphne climbed into a carriage.

Hermione followed Draco and Nott into their own. Those creepy skele-horses were still pulling the carriages.

"Hogsmeade doesn't have the kind of selection Diagon Alley does," Draco said as the carriage bucked into motion. "It's mostly like the shops near the Leaky Cauldron. Candy, jokes, common commodities. Nothing that would fit in Knocktern Alley, unfortunately."

"A bookshop, I hope?" Hermione said, looking out the window. The carriage bounced down the path to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds. In the sky, like a floating picket line, were the dark shapes of the Dementors.

"Books," scoffed Draco. "This is a Hogsmeade trip, not a jaunt to the library."

Hermione hummed. As they approached the edge of the grounds, the air grew cold. She could see her breath in the air. She wouldn't mind swapping the carriage for a nice table in the library. Hermione watched as the line of Dementors passed above them. She leaned closer to the window. Hogsmeade should be ahead. She had only really seen the rail station. Hermione hadn't been too interested in the other parts of the village. Not with Hogwarts looming overhead. She stuck her head out to get a better view.

It felt like an icicle had stabbed her heart. A hooded figure darted out from around the front of the carriage and strafed across the window. Hermione tumbled backwards into Draco, clutching her chest. The Dementor only peered into the carriage for a split second, but Hermione could have sworn that she saw blue eyes. And that hand that latched onto the window sill…

Hermione shivered, then realized that she was nearly laying on top of Draco. She sat up and apologized. "I should have brought a warmer coat."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

A sign was posted near the entrance of Honeydukes. Dementors would be patrolling the streets after sunset, on the watch for Black.

"Sweets, Draco?" Hermione asked. "Aren't we meeting Daphne for lunch?"

"Yes, but we have time for a snack," he replied, pushing through the throng at the entrance to the shop. Hermione dove in after him, grumbling to herself that sweets did not constitute a snack.

Hogwarts must have been a large part of the business decision to start up a sweet shop in the little village. The entire building was packed with teenagers. For a moment she pondered what the rate of theft was and if it was driving prices up. With a few hundred kids passing through there was no way the owners could catch every shoplifter. Unless there was some sort of magical countermeasures. That wasn't likely, though. Not if the wizarding world needed a giant sea-castle to keep all its prisoners in. Crime would have to happen and people would need to believe they could pull something off without being magically roped in immediately. "You getting anything?" Draco asked from ahead.

"I don't think so," said Hermione.

"You sure? The next Hogsmeade visit isn't for a month or more. Stock up now." Draco pulled a bag from a slot next to the bins of candy and started shoveling them in.

"I'd rather not spend all my money on pure sugar," she sniffed. Maneuvering in the crowd was almost impossible. In such a tight space she nearly had to cling to Draco's jacket to keep track of him and avoid bumping into people. They made their way to the counter and Draco coughed up the gold coins necessary to make the purchase of his knapsack of treasure.

"Nothing for you, dear?" asked the round lady behind the counter.

"I don't think so…" she said.

"You sure? We've got toffees and chocolates and much more."

Hermione was about to politely decline again, but then thought back to the sign. The Dementors shouldn't make their way onto to the grounds, but if they did… Hermione didn't want to go see Pomfrey again. Twice was already too much for her. "Actually, I'll take a bar of chocolate."

They met Nott outside on the way to lunch. He was not a sugary person, and his distaste for sweets did not surprise Hermione. Draco led the way. The street was full of Hogwarts students, of which they were the youngest. It was weird feeling like a first year again. But now she had people to experience it with together. They arrived at the tavern, a very homely building. There was even a dog sitting outside snacking on leftovers the students tossed to him.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded, noisy, and not altogether fun – at least for Hermione. Pansy and Millicent joined them there, making it the whole of third year Slytherin, excluding Zabini. Nott said something about chasing Hufflepuffs.

"You think Black is out there?" Tracey asked, bringing a few butterbeers to the table. "The woods are pretty thick."

"I'd hope he would have more than trees to hide himself," Draco scoffed. "If he is really such a dangerous wizard he could be hiding in plain sight. He could be in this very room…"

"Not likely," cut in Daphne, taking a sip of her butterbeer.

"He could," Draco sniffed into his own tankard.

"The Dementors would find him," Nott said. "You can't hide from them once they are on your scent."

"Dementors can't smell," laughed Tracey.

"Figure of speech," growled Nott.

"They let him out of Azkaban," said Draco. "I think he can avoid the Dementors."

"Then why are they here?" piped Pansy.

"Because Dumbledore and Fudge are dolts," Nott spat. "They let Black out of Azkaban and they'll let him into Hogwarts."

"Not likely," said Daphne through her tankard.

"They thought he was dangerous enough to throw in Azkaban without a hearing," said Millicent. "And he broke out. He can get into Hogwarts."

The table was an island of silence in the sea of noise.

"I'm going to inspect the facilities," Daphne said, standing up.

"She's going to pee," Tracey translated, grinning and earning herself a cuff on the head. When she was out of sight, Tracey took Daphne's mug and poured most of it into her own. "We shouldn't let Daphne drink too much," she explained, "She gets handsy when she drinks."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"Hold it!" someone shouted from behind the mass of Slytherins. "Stop!" The column stumbled to a halt. An imposing seventh year girl was walking as fast as she could towards them. "Turn around."

"The feast's over," someone said.

"I can't eat anymore."

"Shut it," the girl said, "The Headmaster has ordered everyone back to the Great Hall."

Murmurs of discontent filled the hall.

" _Now_ ," the girl barked, spurring the column into motion.

The Slytherins merged with Hufflepuffs and soon the Ravenclaws. They all looked equally perplexed. In the Great Hall they met the Gryffindors, who were blanched.

"Did Potter finally kick it?" Draco mused hopefully.

"You need to stop this obsessive behavior," Hermione hissed at him. "Not everything has to do with Potter."

"No, it usually does," said Draco, sounding a bit spiteful.

Hermione didn't disagree, but she didn't have to voice her assent. "He's right there," she pointed as she spotted the runt and his weasel.

The students filed in to the Great Hall. The professors began sealing the doors and the windows.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore announced. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately. Send word with one of the ghosts."

With a few swishes of his wand, Dumbledore sent the tables to stack against the walls and conjured hundreds of sleeping bags. "Sleep well," he said, and left the hall.

The hall exploded into chatter. The Gryffindors began telling the story of how Sirius Black was inside the castle and ripped up their portrait hole.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" Percival Weasley shouted. Hermione had tried to forget that he was Head Boy. And being placed "in charge" inflated his ego to an astronomical size. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

Hermione seized a sleeping bag and took it over to where Daphne and Tracey were setting up shop against the wall. Draco followed behind her, carrying his own bag. "What do you say to that, Miss Greengrass?" he snickered. "'Not likely'?"

"We only have the word of a poltergeist," said Daphne, zipping and unzipping her bag with a distasteful look.

"Dumbledore seemed convinced. Black is in the castle."

"But why do we have to sleep on hard stone?" Hermione complained. "He's after Potter. He was trying to get into Gryffindor tower. I want my bed, not… _this_ ," she waved at the mass of purple bags laying on the floor.

"How d'you think he got in?" asked Tracey, already in her bag. "He couldn't have just… walked in, could he?"

"He could apparate," Millicent said, pulling up her sleeping bag.

"Or fly," said Draco.

"Maybe he disguised himself," said Tracey.

Hermione frowned at her friends. "Do none of you read?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure Crabbe and Goyle _can_ …" Draco grinned.

"Honestly, none of you know that the castle is protected by more than _walls_?" She only received blank stares. "There are enchantments over every inch of stone. You can't Apparate into or out of Hogwarts. And then there are the Dementors…"

"Who've already failed once," Tracey kicked in. "They don't have a great record with Black."

"Lights are going out!" Percival's shout chaffed her eardrums. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

The lights went out and Hermione pulled the sleeping back over her. She knew almost immediately that she would get no sleep that night. The floor was hard and cruel. She had no pillow. And there was a small matter of a mass murderer inside her home.

It seemed like that sentiment was shared amongst many other students, because a quiet rustling of whispers filled the hall like a soft wind.

For every defense Hermione could cite, there was a pit in her heart that knew that they weren't enough. They had failed before. They had failed tonight. They would fail again.

That Percival Weasley had been put in charge of her defense did nothing to allay her fears.

Sometime in the deep of night the world faded to nothingness. Then she was sitting in a cave. A familiar cavern. There was a single light ahead. It was moving away, leaving her in blackness. Dread filled her heart. She called for it to wait for her. She stood and ran after it. As fast as her feet could carry her. And it was still fading in the distance. The tunnel narrowed.

There was a clatter of rock behind her. She whipped around.

But there was nothing there. She couldn't even see the walls. She only knew the floor was there because she wasn't falling.

A soft rustle came from the darkness. Hermione took a step back and looked over her shoulder. The light slipped around a corner and out of sight. She reached into her robes for her wand, but her pocket was empty. She ripped at her robes in a furious search. Nothing. She was unarmed. Defenseless. And that rustle came again.

Hermione took a step backwards as quietly as possible. She could not see anything. But she knew something was there. It felt like an hour between each step. She reached out for a wall but could not find one. Was it even there? Did this darkness extend in all directions? Did it end?

She heard scratching coming from in front of her. Slow, erratic, like a broken body being dragged across stone. And then it stopped.

Hermione strained her ears for the slightest sound. But there was nothing but the silence, loud enough to drown out everything but her heart. She didn't even hear her feet moving. But she knew they were. They were shaking, taking one step at a time. Backwards. Always backwards. Something was still out there. She knew it. Even if it didn't make a noise. Or perhaps it did, and she couldn't hear it over the sound of heart heartbeat in her ears. That rhythmic _thump thump_. Like shockwaves that expanded from her heart outwards. She felt it in her fingers, her toes. _Thump thump_.

And then something seized her ankle. It latched on and pulled violently. She didn't have time to scream. She was tripping, falling.

Hermione woke with a start, staring up at the starry sky.

She hadn't fallen asleep outside. No, she was in the Great Hall. Just where she left her body.

The inside of her sleeping bag was damp and muggy, he skin was slick with sweat. Hermione lifted herself up into a sitting position and unzipped the bag to air it out. There was an aching in her back.

The dim starlight only allowed her to make out silhouettes. Scores of dark blotches lay across the hall. There were one or two silently moving around on their feet. Patrolling. Hermione laid back down and felt for her wand. It was there, as it should be. Just where she left it. She stared up at the stars. She wished for a dreamless sleep. But that too often eluded her.

Hermione was roused from her thoughts by the voice of Dumbledore somewhere near. "All well here?"

"Everything under control, sir," the grating voice of the Head Boy whispered.

"Good. There's no point moving them all now. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

Hermione couldn't catch anything else until someone new joined the conversation. "Headmaster?" Snape said. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there."

"What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched…"

"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" asked Snape.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

Hermione turned over to peek at the men. Dumbledore was looking away but she saw Snape and Percival. Snape was angry.

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before… the start of term?"

"I do, Severus," Dumbledore said with an edge.

"It seems almost impossible that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed –"

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," Dumbledore interrupted. "Now I must go down to the Dementors."

The trio broke up. Dumbledore left the hall and Percy began patrolling again.

Snape stood there, watching the headmaster, fingers drumming on his drawn wand. Hermione watched him intently. What was he saying? Who was he accusing?

He turned abruptly and almost immediately locked eyes with Hermione. She froze. How long had he known she was listening? His face was livid, almost twitching with fury. Snape took three strides and was standing over her. He used the top of his shoe to shove her arm inside the bag and zipped it up to her chin with a flick of his wand.


	9. Quidditch in the Rain

**Chapter IX**

 **Quidditch in the Rain**

"I'm not sure I can play Quidditch with this arm," Draco sighed, looking out the window at the grey, stormy sky.

"Your arm is fine," Hermione hummed, setting her bag down next to their desk.

"Fine is relative," he murmured, scratching his ear with his 'injured' arm. "What do we have today? Fanged Frisbees? Lupin has some mad obsession with creatures."

Hermione only grunted her agreement. After the boggart, Hermione had taken to sitting at the back of the classroom and never raising her hand. She wasn't afraid. No, she was angry. Lupin was stuck with a class of fuming Slytherins and Hermione wasn't going to give him a reprieve of correct answers. He'd have to wring them out of someone else.

But today Professor Lupin didn't emerge from his office. It was Professor Snape.

"Lupin says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape said, obvious spite showing on his face. "And such a pity: now you must learn for a change. He has not left any record of topics you have covered so far. Today we shall discuss," he flipped through the textbook to the very last chapter. "Werewolves."

"Werewolves?" Pansy clucked.

"Werewolves, Miss Parkinson," Snape said. "Turn to page 394."

"But Lupin said we were starting hinkypunks –" Pansy said.

"And I care why?" snapped Snape.

Pansy flinched.

"Turn to page 394."

The class took out their books and flipped the pages.

"Now, which of you can tell me how to distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?"

Everybody sat in a motionless silence for a moment, followed by a scratching of chairs ever so slightly as the class turned to Hermione. Her hand was most definitely _not_ up.

"Anyone?" Snape droned. "Are you telling me that Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between the werewolf and the true wolf?" He sounded bored, but beneath the layer of dullness was venom. "He has been here more than two months. _Surely…_ " He trailed off, looking at Hermione. "Surely, Miss Granger knows."

Hermione frowned. "No, sir."

"No?" he sounded surprised. "Why ever not?"

"It's the last chapter, sir."

"Haven't you read the book?"

"It's the last chapter, sir," she repeated. "Why would I need to read ahead when Lupin is such a great teacher that it would be redundant?"

Snape's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Indeed. Mister Lupin's credentials are to be admired. He couldn't have just… wandered in on his own." Snape's eyes roved across the room. "Very well. You will read the chapter, paying careful attention to how to identify a werewolf, and write me an essay on the matter. No less than ten inches."

The class knew better than to groan.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Draco dropped a package on Hermione's lap.

She picked it up delicately. "What's this?"

"A gift."

"What for?"

"For your birthday."

She looked at the package. "My birthday was a few weeks ago."

He shrugged. "But you didn't tell me. I had to find out myself."

Hermione tore through the tissue paper. Inside was a stretch of knitted green and white wool. A Slytherin scarf.

"I expect you to wear it in the stands," Draco said.

"The stands?"

"When you watch the game."

"I don't go to Quidditch games."

"You do now."

"Why?"

"Because I say so."

"You can't tell me what to do, Draco."

"If you want to fit in here you have to go to the games. Everyone does."

"I have things to do."

"What are you doing now?" Draco leaned over Hermione's paper.

"Writing Snape's essay," she breathed, flipping a page in her Defence textbook.

"That's never going to be collected," he said, taking the seat next to her.

Hermione frowned at him. "And you know this how?"

"Lupin will never let Snape dictate his own class. He may be a little twerp, but he's still the Defence professor."

Hermione eyed him for a moment. He wasn't _wrong_ … but Hermione wasn't one to take Snape's instructions idly.

Draco drummed his fingers on the table. "You're being boring. All you do is study."

"That's what I've always done."

"But you've haven't gotten at Weasley or Potter lately. You need to perk up."

"Draco, you can't stop me from studying. Or reading. Or doing my homework. Or anything that I've done since forever."

"Fine. But you're going to the Quidditch game?"

She sighed. "Does it mean that much to you?"

"It would be proper for a Slytherin to support the Slytherin team." Draco was leaning back in the chair but his fingers continued their drumming.

"I suppose I don't have much other use for a Slytherin scarf…" Hermione said.

"Then you'll go?" he grinned, standing up. "Potter is going to be pulverized."

"He better be."

"This is our year," said Draco, strolling off.

Someone coughed behind her. An older girl was standing there. "Granger, yeah?"

Hermione nodded.

"Potter's out in the hall looking for you."

"Potter?" asked Hermione. "Looking for me?"

The girl shrugged and walked away. Hermione slowly got up and made her way out of the common room. Potter stood there in the hall, a ball of reddish-brown fur in his arms.

"Crookshanks?" gasped Hermione.

"He was in Gryffindor Tower. Ron wants to skewer him."

"Ronald is a crude boy," Hermione frowned, reaching out to take her cat back.

But Potter pulled away. "You're not trying to… get into Gryffindor Tower again, are you?"

"No… I mean, what?" Hermione froze. "I don't understand."

Potter's green eyes darkened. "Yes, you do. I didn't know at first, but I figured it out. Don't try it again."

"What's going on here?" a voice called from behind Hermione. Draco sauntered out of the Slytherin dorms. "Stealing pets, are we, Potter?"

"He's just returning Crookshanks," Hermione said, reaching out again. This time Potter relinquished the cat.

"Good luck tomorrow," Draco grinned at Potter. "Try not to fall off your broom. Or break an arm."

Potter glowered. "I remember that I won that game last year."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"So what am I watching?" Hermione asked, staring out into the windy, rainy sky as dark shapes zoomed around.

"The game," Daphne said.

Both of them were bundled up as tight as they could in wool coats, scarves and hoods, clutching themselves to make sure nothing was blow off in the wind. Tracey, on the other hand, was wearing a sweater and a beanie, jumping around and hollering with the crowd.

"And this is interesting?" Hermione grumbled.

"Once you get to know it," Daphne responded. "Look – there," she pointed up into the dark sky. Two blotches were spinning through the air together. "That's Draco and Potter. They might have seen the snitch."

"How can they see the snitch in this?" Hermione said. "I can barely see _them_."

Daphne hummed. "That's why they are up there and you are down here."

"Among other reasons," she mumbled back, holding her coat closer to her body against the thrashing wind. Hermione's eyes wandered from shape to shape in the sky, then down to the stands. The opposing stand was decked out in red and gold and screaming. Hufflepuff was located next to them, mostly yellow, though with some red scattered in support of the lions. Ravenclaw was on her side of the pitch, but she couldn't see them through the Slytherin crowd.

Hermione tried. She really tried. She even got excited for the first few hoops. But then her clothes started to get soaked, her fingers all pruned up and she lost feeling in her ears. The goals kept coming and the game didn't seem to be going towards any end point. So she started scanning the pitch below, imagining what it would be like to watch a football match there. It was approximately the right size, though it was oval instead of rectangular. And the vantage point was decent. And no one would have to look directly into the rain to watch the game.

Wistfully thinking of football, she almost missed it. Down on the pitch, under the shadow of the Gryffindor stand, soaking wet but sitting absolutely still, was a dog. It was large and black and was watching the game. Or that's the way it looked. She could hardly understand _humans_ watching this game. But there it was, sitting, watching. It must have been from Hogsmeade. Or maybe it was one of Hagrid's beasts? Hermione poked Daphne, but she had join Tracey in some jeering and didn't respond.

Suddenly there was a bright flash across the sky. A purplish glow for a millisecond and then darkness. A bolt of lightning shot through the sky again. _And that's that_ , Hermione thought to herself with relief. Sports were always stopped for lightning. She readied herself for the piercing whistle from the referee to call the game off, but it didn't come.

"Should the game be stopped?" Hermione asked Daphne.

"Why?"

"Lightning. It can't be safe to be _flying_ in the lightning!"

Daphne shook her head. "They'll be fine."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"Party in the common room!"

The shout went out from the Slytherin procession as they stormed back into the castle. Part of their vigor was ecstasy from beating Gryffindor, part because Potter fell off his broom a mile into the clouds, and the rest was a desire to get out of the damned storm. They had left the other houses in their muddy wake and marched victorious into the great hall, parading the Quidditch team around.

When they reached the dungeons Marcus Flint jumped onto a chair by the fireplace and waited for the room to quiet down. He took Draco by the scruff of his Quidditch robes and hauled him up next to him. "Let's hear it for Malfoy! Knocked Potter right off his broom and made Dumbledore catch the blighter!"

The room exploded in cheers. Draco – hair slicked down from the rain and cheeks, ears and nose pink from the swirling winds, and still clutching his broom – wore a silly grin and waved to the crowd. Flint slapped his back so hard he had to jump onto the floor.

Hermione pushed her way through towards the circle of Quidditch players congratulating themselves. Someone had produced a bottle like the ones that stood in her parents' liquor cabinet. It was passed around the players, each taking a gulp. When the bottle reached Draco, Hermione yelled out an admonishment, but it was lost in the raptures and he took a swig like the rest of the team. He passed the bottle on and said something to Flint, who nodded. Draco broke from the circle and snaked his way towards the dorms. Hermione followed him to his room.

"You're not having a good day, are you?" she said.

Draco turned with his toothy smile and hugged her tight, lifting Hermione off her feet. "I'm having a great day, Hermione." She squealed and wriggled until he put her down.

"Well, _I_ don't think so."

Draco tossed his gloves and robes into his open trunk, leaning his Nimbus 2001 gently against the post of his bed.

"You shouldn't drink alcohol," Hermione crossed her arms.

"It was just one pull," he said with a grin. "You should try some."

"I have no intention of taking a shot of whiskey, Draco."

He threw up his hands. "We won! Celebrate!"

"Only because Potter got hit by lightning. That's no reason to start poisoning yourself."

"Come off it, Hermione. A win is a win. And it wasn't the lightning. He got spooked by the Dementors."

"It doesn't matter _how_ it happened," she seethed. "It matters that you caught the snitch while Potter was falling to his imminent death"

"Oh, Dumbledore caught him. He didn't get too banged up -a shame - but completely within the rules of Quidditch."

"I wasn't away there _were_ rules to Quidditch. Honestly, how can that be a legitimate sport? Allowing kids to fly hundreds of feet into the air while lightning shoots across the sky?"

"We're wizards, Hermione. You need to stop judging us by Muggle standards."

"I'm judging you by rational standards. That was _dangerous_ , Draco. You could have been hurt."

"Glad to know you care," he grinned.

"Of course I care," she huffed. "You're my only friend."

"That's not true," said Draco. "Daphne is your friend. And Astoria. Davis, too."

"They wouldn't get caught near me if it weren't for you."

Draco shrugged. "Astoria seems determined to become your protégé."

"She knows about me from Daphne, and it is only acceptable for Daphne to know me because of _you_."

"You're being dramatic."

Hermione stood resolutely. "I'm not being dramatic."

"You think that everyone will abandon you the moment I drop you," he said. "Well, I've got news for you: I don't think they would. And I know I won't. So you don't need to worry, anyway."

"I'm not worrying."

"Then lighten up, will you?"

Hermione stood resolutely. "I won't partake in any illicit celebratory activities. I should report the existence of contraband to Professor Snape."

"But you won't."

"And why not?"

"Because we won!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I suppose, this once. Because you probably won't beat Potter again."

Draco punched her shoulder playfully. "You know I'm the better seeker."

"Actually, I don't. I'm not exactly sure what makes a good Quidditch player."

"Easy: I am."

Hermione snorted.

"Now, I really want to take a shower. Are you done with your rant?"

"It wasn't a rant," said Hermione. "But, yes, I'm done." She turned to go.

"Wait," sad Draco. "What are you doing for the holidays?"

"Staying here. You?"

"I'm going home. You want to come?"

"To the manor?"

"Yeah. I don't think you've been here over the break, but Slytherin clears out. I wouldn't be surprised if you were the only girl left."

"I told my parents I'd be staying here. And I don't think they would like it…"

"They don't have to know," he grinned.

* * *

 **About here is where I kind of lost my impetus in writing this. The lack of connection to the plot doesn't help. But we must push on.**


	10. Home for the Holidays

**A/N: This chapter wasn't finished until today. It had a great possibility of murky waters and meaningless fluff, so I avoided writing it until now.**

* * *

 **Chapter X**

 **Home for the Holidays**

Narcissa Malfoy greeted her on Platform 9 ¾ with open arms. "Hermione, dear, I am so glad your parents allowed us to steal you away for the break."

Hermione returned her warm hug without regret. "Yeah. I'm glad, too."

"How was your term? Better than last, I should hope."

"Everything is fine, except there's Dementors everywhere," Hermione said with a shrug.

Narcissa shook her head and moved on to Draco. "Abysmal idea, I agree. There's simply no need to have Dementors stuck around a school, for goodness sake. Children shouldn't have to be near them."

"They aren't _that_ bad," Draco wriggled out of his mother's embrace. "They just make everything go dark and cold."

Narcissa smiled at him. "You should be grateful, love. Your father and I have been able to keep you safe and sound."

Draco went pinkish, and shrugged some more. "I guess."

"Are we ready?"

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Narcissa and Lucius took Draco and Hermione to Diagon Alley a few days before Christmas. The street was filled with witches and wizards of every size and shape. It was as busy as a Muggle department store.

"Alright. We can split up and purchase our gifts separately," said Narcissa. "We wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

Hermione wandered into her favorite store, Flourish and Blotts. She loved that book smell, be it old or new. That stuffy smell of parchment was intoxicating. So much could be put onto a single sheet, to have hundreds bound together created endless possibilities.

But would Draco appreciate those possibilities? She had her doubts.

Hermione had been browsing for not ten minutes before she saw Narcissa enter the shop, making a beeline for a certain section. Obviously she had no reservations about which gifts to get.

After another five minutes wondering what Draco would like, Hermione changed tactics and went with the safer option: Quidditch. It pained her greatly, but she entered the Quidditch shop of her own volition with the intention of spending money on the damned sport.

It proved a success. She exited the shop not long after entering, a pair of Quidditch gloves wrapped nicely in a bag. The smell of new leather had sold her on them. She had briefly thought of a broom-cleaning kit but didn't think Draco would revel in scrubbing down his broom. No, gloves were the right choice.

When she emerged into the street, it didn't take long to find the stark blond hair of Lucius and Narcissa. They were standing near the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, talking to another blonde lady. This one had curly hair and heavy-rimmed glasses. As Hermione approached, Narcissa broke off to greet her. "Lucius is just talking to a reporter, dear. Shouldn't be too long."

"A reporter?" said Hermione.

"Yes. Lucius does love the media," Narcissa grimaced.

At that moment the reporter in question appeared at Narcissa's side, staring down at Hermione through those odd glasses. "And who is this?" There was a long feather quill and a floating pad of paper hovering next to her. "Rita Skeeter," she said, sticking out a hand. "Daily Prophet, though I'm sure you've heard of me," she beamed.

"No," said the cold voice of Mr. Malfoy.

"Oh, we'll get back to you, dear," Ms. Skeeter said, waving a hand. "I want to know -"

"No," Lucius said again, and took Skeeter by the elbow and pulled her back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Skeeter looked indignant, but after a few seconds began her interview again as if nothing happened.

"Skeeter's an odd one," Narcissa said. "Oh, here's Draco. I think we shall have some lunch here and then return to the Manor."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Christmas Eve was upon Hermione before she knew it. Narcissa had planned an elaborate party for the evening. There was a tree in every room large enough to hold one, and each was decorated in a different theme. The sitting room tree was a simple classic. A cloud floated above it, frosting the branches with enchanted snow. At promptly five o'clock, the green flames flared and Mr. Nott emerged from the fireplace, looking as grim as ever, followed closely by mini-Nott. The pleasantries weren't over before the next guests arrived. Like the summer party, the Greengrasses appeared as a group. Astoria dashed over to Hermione and Daphne seemed to be considering fitter her sister with a leash.

The fireplace flared again. A single man came through the flaming gateway. His hat matched the fires, a black overcoat draped over his shoulders. He was just a bit pudgy, but he moved with a spring in his step.

"Aha! Lucius, I was ever so pleased to receive your invitation." He walked over to his hosts with a giant grin.

"Mister Minister," Lucius responded, shaking his hand. "Welcome to my home."

"Oh, please call me Cornelius," the man laughed. "Dare I say, I've always wanted to get a look in Malfoy Manor!"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you had your people searching my house last year?"

Cornelius – Fudge, if he was indeed the Minister – laughed robustly. "Water under the bridge, my friend. When Albus starts leaning on you, there's not too much you can do."

Lucius nodded. "Yes, I do understand. I know how the man gets with his… _rumors_ and stories."

"But a good man," Fudge bobbed his head. "Ah, you must introduce me to your radiant wife, Lucius!"

"Cornelius – Narcissa."

"Mister Minister," Narcissa extended her hand for Fudge to kiss. "A pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," he smiled. "And the little one?"

"Draco, this is Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic."

Draco stepped forward and shook his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Minister."

"Lucius has been bragging about your recent Quidditch win. Just think of what you could achieve on a Firebolt!"

Draco smirked and looked to his parents.

"He is winning on his 2001," Lucius said sternly. "Cornelius, have you met Edward Nott?"

"Perhaps in passing," Cornelius' smile wavered for an instant. "But nothing I quite remember." He shook the man's hand.

"Theodore," Nott said, "Greet the Minister."

His son shook the Minister's hand with a nod.

"Ah! Nicolas, what a surprise."

"Cornelius," said Mr. Greengrass. "An agreeable surprise, I hope."

"Nothing is more agreeable than you, my friend. Olivia, you look wonderful."

Mrs. Greengrass nodded. "These are our daughters, Daphne and Astoria. Tory was sorted into Slytherin just this past fall."

Astoria squirmed with pride.

"A Slytherin, eh? How many does that make?"

"Everyone, I think!" Mr. Greengrass chuckled. "Except you. Perhaps we can make you an honorary member?"

Fudge laughed. "I'm quite happy as it is, Nicolas. And who is this?" he had turned to Hermione and noticed her for the first time. "She's not one of yours, is she, Narcissa?"

"Not as such," Narcissa said, laying a hand on Hermione's shoulders. "This is Hermione Granger. Perhaps you've heard of her?"

"Granger, eh?" Fudge scratched his chin. "Can't say I have – or, wait. Can't be."

"Can be," Narcissa smiled.

"No… The one – Albus told me –"

"The very same."

Fudge's mouth hung open. "But you're… you can't be more than thirteen!"

"I'm fourteen, sir. Since September," Hermione said, blushing under his amazement.

"Hogwarts owes you much, dear girl." He took her hand and shook vigorously. "A very large debt, indeed."

"I'm more interested in how such a situation even occurred," Lucius drawled, fiddling with his sleeve. "How Dumbledore let the situation go that far…"

"Indeed," Cornelius nodded. "But he assures me had everything under control."

Hermione coughed a little. "Didn't you remove him, Minister? During Spring term?"

Fudge blinked. "Remove him? Me? No, no, dear girl. I believe that was the Hogwarts Governors. I was only at Hogwarts to arrest Mister Hagrid."

"Wasn't he innocent?" Hermione asked.

The minister started to turn a light shade of red. "There was evidence to support the case. I can't say that I am infallible."

"You did as you should have, Cornelius," Lucius said, giving Hermione a dark look. "I'm sure the girl means no disrespect. She's an inquisitive one."

"Oh yes," Fudge said, looking relieved. "We shouldn't stifle mere curiosity." A dull crack sounded outside. "Who would that be?"

"It is probably only Severus," Narcissa said, walking out of the room. She returned a moment later with a dour looking Snape in tow. "Severus, have you met the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge?"

"Once or twice," Snape said softly, considering the man with care. "Minister."

"Snape," Cornelius replied curtly, hands tucked firmly into his pockets.

"Severus," said Lucius. "I'm glad you could join us."

Snape nodded. "Not for long, though. I have duties to attend to. Professor Dumbledore requires the presence of the staff over the holidays." His eyes hovered over everybody until he found Hermione. "And someone must keep an eye on Lupin."

Narcissa clucked. "Such a troubled boy. Should have steered clear from little Sirius."

Fudge nodded solemnly. "Black was not a good influence. I've heard things that would make you shudder."

"Do tell, Minister," Snape said, lips curling. "Shuddering helps keep us warm in this cold winter weather."

"You know how close he and James Potter were?"

"Intimately," said Snape in a growl.

"Yes. They – and little Peter Pettigrew – were always together. All through Hogwarts and even after the graduated. So, when the Potters were targeted by You-Know-Who. Well, James went under the Fidelius Charm. You all know how the charm works, of course?"

There were nods all around.

"So James and Lily go under the Fidelius. And they needed to appoint a Secret Keeper. James chose his best friend. Sirius Black."

Edward Nott grumbled. "That is not hard to deduce."

"No, no. That is not the worst of it. What I find appalling is that, to this day, Sirius Black is still Harry Potter's godfather!"

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Christmas morning at Malfoy Manor was much like Christmas morning at Hermione's house. It was a quiet affair. The family met in the living room around a large fir tree. There were some presents exchanged. Mr. Malfoy watched over his paper and sipped his coffee. Professor Snape left him a bottle of Firewhiskey, and some sort of potion for Narcissa. Or perfume. Hermione couldn't tell. She was delighted with it in any case. Mr. Malfoy gave Draco a black velvet cloak with silver clasps.

Narcissa plucked a gift from under the tree and handed it to Hermione. She unwrapped it carefully. It was a copy of Beedle and the Bard.

"I think it can be educational at any age. And entertaining."

"Thank you, Narcissa," she said, hugging her. "It's perfect." Hermione retrieved her own gift and gave it to Draco. The Quidditch gloves were nothing fancy, just a new pair.

He grinned. "Come on," Draco said, standing.

"I'm not playing Quidditch," she said quickly.

He laughed, leading her out of the room. "It's not that. I left your gift upstairs."

They climbed the staircase and Hermione followed Draco to his room. He went to the far side of the room and dug through his desk until he found it.

Draco produced a flat black box and handed it to her. It felt like velvet in her hands. Hermione opened it slowly. A thin silver chain laid inside on a soft pad of silk. In the middle of the necklace rested a little sparkling stone. Hermione's mouth hung open. "Is that… a _real_ diamond?"

Draco smirked. "Why would I get you a fake diamond?"

"I just… I don't know what to say," Hermione said in a hushed voice, transfixed by the elegant piece of jewelry. "I only got you Quidditch gloves…"

"But you like it?" he asked.

It took a moment for her to nod.

"I don't know what to say…" she repeated.

"You don't have to say anything," Draco said. "Hermione?"

She looked up and felt his lips on hers.

Shocked was an understatement. She felt like she was going to have a heart attack.

Draco pulled away slowly. "You okay?"

Hermione managed to fit a few confused words together. "You're my best friend."

"You're mine, too."

Draco leaned in again, slower, until they were almost touching again. He nodded his head slightly, brushing his nose against hers, his lips against hers. He kissed her again, and this time Hermione kissed him back.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione had her trunk packed and left it in her room, as Narcissa instructed. Villy would take it to King's Cross for them. She passed Draco's closed door and considered knocking. She didn't doubt he would let her in, but Hermione was still not sure about... anything. She liked Draco, sure. He like her, too. That much was clear. But it was a new experience. Confusing. Best to let things run their coarse, let Draco decide how to proceed. He was the one who instigated it, after all.

So she passed his room as quietly as possible and stepped carefully down the stairs. She was about to enter the dining room when she heard voices on the other side of the door. Curious, Hermione stopped to listen. Some of the words were lost to her, but she made out most of it.

"…Crouches will end with Bartemius," that was Mr. Malfoy, sounding not quite angry, but a bit troubled, "…the Parkinsons aren't… Don't even get me _started_ on the Potters. Even your own family, Narcissa… the last Black is out there on the run…I will _not_ let the Malfoy line end..."

"It _won't_ end, Lucius," Narcissa hissed. "The world is changing...

"Yes, it will. One way or another," Mr. Malfoy spat.

"You care more for the reputation of your name ..."

"Of course …. That's why… doesn't make a mistake."

"He _cares_..."

"… for the rest of his life."

"Then let it end naturally."

Mr. Malfoy muttered something inaudible and there was a pause in the conversation. Hermione couldn't tell if they were whispering or just not saying anything.

"You _know_ …" That was Narcissa, and she didn't sound happy at all.

"For the good of the family, Narcissa."

"…anything you say, and you know ..."

"He knows his duty."

"Family is stronger than blood."

"No, family _is_ blood. Your own parents ..."

"… did it get us? Azkaban and ..."

"Better that than…."

"Severus has only ever ... surpassed every expectation..."

Severus? Was all this about Snape? How did he figure in to everything? She didn't think he had any familial connection with the Malfoys. But she didn't know much about anyone's families, other than Narcissa's cousin was a mass murderer and terrorist.

"… too much stock in Severus. He is still a half-blood."

And there went any familial link. Surely Lucius Malfoy wasn't related to a half-blood?

"You trusted him enough ..."

"Not in this… Who knows how much… You know his proclivities."

"And if he has? I trust Severus' intentions, and I quite agree with him."

The conversation dwindled to a standstill, leaving Hermione leaning against a door to a silent room feeling slightly guilty for eavesdropping on what was obviously a family matter. Her heart jumped when she heard footsteps approaching. Hermione scrambled away as quietly as possible and pretended to be walking down the stairs.

The door swung open to reveal Narcissa. She smiled as she saw Hermione approaching, but not quick enough to disguise her former frown. "Hermione, dear. Are you all packed for the Express?"

* * *

 **What, you thought Draco would get all buddy-buddy with a Mudblood without another motive? - But, no, this isn't why he changed his tune last year.**

 **My foreword still holds true: _this is still not a Dramione_. Don't expect to dive into the trivialities of their relationship. Or much of their relationship, at all. It's not particularly central to the story. ****There were just developments that were always going to happen. Things on Draco's end should have been fairly obvious. I don't think I made his attraction very discreet, to you or the other characters (excepting Hermione).**

 **Well, cliché half-heard conversation. Hooray! Sorry for taking the easy way out but I didn't want to devise another device to get some of the Malfoy's personal opinions into the air.**

 **I am loathe to use scene breaks as much as I did this chapter, but it had to be done, for the sake of my own sanity and the posting schedule.**

 **Anyway, this was about the point I decided to put third year on a train and prayed to god I could get it into the station as fast as I could. We're halfway through, though, and things should start looking up from this point forward, and I promise the later chapters are much better realized than this.**


	11. Werewolf Among Us

**Chapter XI**

 **Werewolf Among Us**

Nothing was as much a buzzkill as Professor Lupin. He would warble on about some creature in his dusty voice and threadbare blazer, his eyes sunk into their sockets. Hermione was not looking forward to it.

But she was pleasantly surprised to see Professor Snape seated at the desk when she entered the DADA classroom.

" _Professor_ Lupin won't be joining us today," he smirked. "A relapse of his… condition, it would seem. I do believe he has taken more sick days in half a year than I have in a decade." The class chuckled along with him. "Very well. Your papers are due now."

People shuffled in their seats.

"Papers?" Goyle scratched his head.

"Lupin didn't assign any paper," said Crabbe.

Snape frowned. "I don't suppose he would. But, if you can tap into that thing you call a brain, you might remember the paper _I_ assigned."

"But Lupin canceled it!" Pansy said.

"Miss Parkinson, do you _see_ Lupin here? I will have your papers now. Anyone who does not turn anything in will be assigned detention."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"I don't see why I have to do this _now_ , Hermione," Draco complained. "I doubt Snape will fill in any time soon. Couldn't we just wait?"

"No," she said. "Lupin could be sick at any time, without warning. You have to finish your essay so you don't get any more detention."

"What am I supposed to write? The werewolf turns into a man after the full moon?"

"That's a start."

"How am I supposed to identify a werewolf? If he's just a man at every other time, knowing what the wolf looks like would only be useful when it is too late."

"The book says that the man will show some signs of stress in the days leading up and following the full moon. He may look tired or sick, or otherwise not himself," Hermione paraphrased. "A careful consideration of moon cycles and the corresponding behaviors of those you suspect is helpful in determining the identity of a werewolf."

"How interesting," Draco breathed, writing with a sour face. "Do you think Snape gave this assignment to the Gryffindor?"

"I don't see why not. Probably a few feet more, though."

Draco looked up from his paper. "Would Potter pick up on it if I started acting weirdly around the full moons?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No."

"Because he's too stupid or because he's too smart?"

"Because it's too obvious. And why would Snape give Potter a head start in discovering you?."

"I suppose," Draco sighed. "But I'd have… almost a full month to prepare. Didn't we look at the full moon in astronomy this week? I could drop hints the whole time."

"The full moon was last night. And it's not worth it, Draco. Too much effort for too little reward."

"It just seems a shame that Snape is pressing this so much for no reason. I mean, sure, it might piss off Lupin…"

"I don't know if anyone _can_ piss off Lupin. He's so dry the piss would disintegrate him."

"Maybe he was just trying to scare people near the full moon."

Snape's fervor was peculiar. He hated Lupin, to be sure, though something as petty as jumping to a new subject for a day wasn't something that sounded like Snape's style. He usually had meaning behind his actions. He sounded actually angry that Lupin hadn't taught werewolves. Like Lupin was failing as Defence professor… as if there was a werewolf around Hogwarts.

That didn't make sense. None of the other teachers taught werewolves…

But the other Defence professors were… not quite professional, so to speak.

And the forest _was_ always off limits.

So it was one possibility that there was a werewolf in the forest.

But why would Snape be pushing for werewolf curriculum if the forest had always been off limits? Unless the werewolf was new.

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked.

"Hmm?"

"You're never this quiet when you're not studying."

"I can be quiet, Draco."

"Well…" he smirked.

"Shut up." Hermione, red in the face, smacked him with her book. "Do you think a student could be a werewolf?"

"A student?" he made a face. "No. Someone would notice a little wolf sneaking around the dorms."

"What if the teachers were in on it?"

"People would notice, right?"

"Maybe," Hermione pondered. "I'm going to the library."

"Of course you are," he sighed.

She teetered on the edge of the couch, not sure of how to exit. Hermione considered herself an expert – relative to people her age – on many subjects. Social and romantic issues were not any of them. "See you later, then," she said, then quickly kissed Draco's cheek and sped across the common room without looking back.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

A manual of the moon's cycles was relatively easy to obtain. It had uses in both astronomy and divination so there were many copies.

The last full moon was listed as January 27th. Yesterday. That was correct. The others going back to the start of the school year were December 28th, November 29th, October 30th, and September 30th. The next few moons were February 25th, March 27th and April 25th.

The December moon didn't do much for her. It was during the holidays. The others had some promise. Hermione quickly wrote down the dates and left the library. She knew when to look, just not quite how to go about it. Looking around for a werewolf during the full moon was not the type of adventure she was looking for. But if the werewolf really did get ill near the moon…

Sunlight was just fading from the windows of the hospital wing as Hermione entered.

"Need something, dear?" Pomfrey said, walking towards Hermione.

"Uh, yes." The identity of our resident werewolf.

"You don't look ill," the nurse said, putting her hand to Hermione's forehead.

"I'm not. I… I'm working on a project…" Hermione said slowly. "For Divination…" Pomfrey didn't know every student's schedule, surely. "Professor Trelawney said that certain illnesses correspond to the cycle of the moon. I was intrigued. I'm wondering if you could remember if anyone has been sick around these dates." Hermione handed Pomfrey the paper.

"Of course there have been ill students around these dates," the nurse shrugged. "I don't see what that has to do with the moon. Sybill always speaks without much meaning."  
"But have there been anyone ill every month? Near these days?" Hermione asked.

Pomfrey smiled at her. "My dear, if there was a student who routinely relapsed every month, I wouldn't be doing my job very well, would I?"

"I suppose not," said Hermione, dejected. It was worth a shot, though. Might make her think about it. Hermione walked out of the hospital wing.

Or maybe Pomfrey was in on it? Dumbledore would probably tell the nurse if there was a werewolf attending the school. And Pomfrey would spread it around. If there was a relapsing student…

Something flickered in the back of Hermione's mind.

Relapsing…

Snape had said something about relapsing. That Lupin's condition… Yesterday was the full moon. Snape was teaching Defence. Lupin was ill.

Lupin. Lupin had taken more sick days than Snape had in a decade. Perhaps hyperbole. Perhaps not… Lupin didn't have an illness. He felt ill. He had a _condition_. A relapsing condition.

The full moon was yesterday. Lupin wasn't teaching.

Hermione sprinted back to the library and pulled out another almanac.

The December moon wouldn't mean anything.

November 29th. A Monday. The day after was the day Snape took over Defence class.

October 30th was a Saturday. No luck. The werewolf wouldn't need to come out.

September 30th. Another Thursday. That Defence class was cancelled…

And one more date back. August 31st. The day before school started. Lupin looked especially ragged on the Hogwarts Express…

Hermione dropped the book on the desk.

 _Not again_.

She ran out of the library. She sprinted down the hall, narrowly missing Potter, whom she chose to ignore this once, and took the steps down to the dungeon two at a time. Snape's door was unlocked and Hermione barged in.

Snape looked up from behind his desk with an unblinking stare.

"Is Professor Lupin a werewolf?"

He carefully set his quill down. "I was wondering how long the beast would escape your penetrating stare."

"So it's true?"

Snape motioned for her to sit. "Lupin enjoys the odd howl every moon."

"Dumbledore hired a _werewolf_?" asked Hermione, setting herself down in the chair across the desk. "Isn't that… dangerous?

Snape growled low in his throat. "It was a miracle Lupin didn't kill anyone when he attended Hogwarts."

"And no one knows?"

"The entire staff knows," Snape didn't attempt to hide his contempt.

"They don't care?"

"Dumbledore has 'full confidence that Lupin will remain benevolent over his stay at the castle'," he sneered. "That is, if he takes my potion."

"Wolfsbane?" Hermione asked in awe. She had read of the potion for her essay.

Snape nodded. "If he takes it regularly."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Lupin is no saint. He is, at heart, a vicious creature who communes with treacherous murderers. I warn to you to stay away from him, Granger."

"Why don't you tell everyone else?"

"Orders from the headmaster. If no one else can determine the possibility from my lesson, then perhaps they don't deserve to know."

* * *

 **As you can see, the "romance" takes a very back seat in MMIII.**

 **This chapter will most likely be the last MM chapter under 2k words. Weird... I had trouble getting over 2k in MMII.**


	12. She's an Animagus

**Chapter XII**

 **She's an Animagus**

Hermione packed up her bags and began her way back to the common room. It was fairly late in the evening; the halls were almost empty. Past nine, so curfew would begin shortly. The trip to the restricted section was a success. Contrary to the previous Defence professor's instruction, werewolves were not superiorly resistant to magic, merely very durable and determined. Their skin did not absorb the spell as with giants; they did not have scaly armor like dragons. It just took more power to damage them. That made Hermione more at ease with this new situation. Should she eventually come face to face with Lupin in his wolf form Hermione knew that all it would take was powerful and well placed shot to take him out.

She pondered who, and when, to tell. Snape had not sworn her to secrecy at all. Or made any indication that she should keep this information to herself.

Her thoughts swirling in her head, she didn't notice Potter coming around the corner until they slammed into each other.

Hermione steadied herself on the wall. "Watch it, Potter."

"You're the one who ran into me," he muttered back.

"Why are you out so late? Don't you have Quidditch to rest for?" she pulled a sneer that her heart just wasn't in.

Potter made a face back at her, equally as half-hearted. "None of your business, Granger."

Hermione looked down the hallway. There wasn't much down that corridor. Other than the DADA classroom. Lupin's office.

"You were with Lupin?" she asked quickly, before he ran off.

Potter hesitated. "Why do you care?"

"Curious…" she shrugged. "I… what were you doing?"

He frowned. "Nothing you need to know about."

Hermione bit her lip. Potter was a thorn in her side. His best friend was her – what was Ronald to her? Rival gave him too much credit. Nemesis was a bit heavy handed... His best friend was Ronald, which was bad enough by itself. But he had saved her once. Twice, even, though it was tricky to judge the score down in the Chamber. And he had potential to be a not half-bad person. Hermione didn't want him to be unduly in danger by not knowing what Lupin actually was.

"Potter, you should know..."

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_

Hermione and Potter both turned sharply. The shout came from up a nearby staircase. They heard pounding of feet on stone and saw the rush of something small and red sprinting off the staircase towards them.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

The second figure was much bigger, but no less red. Ronald Weasley wheeled around the corner and tore after the cat. He was losing ground with each step. With no other option, he propelled himself forward in an all-out dive. His outstretched hands snatched the air Crookshanks' fur had occupied a half second before.

"Ron?" Potter asked, bewildered.

"Harry!" he said between curses. "She's getting away!"

"Ron?"

"She was snooping around our room again," Ronald cried, pulling himself to his feet. "She was after Scabbers!"

"No, Ron-" Potter protested.

"I'm telling you, Harry, we just have to get her to McGonagall and she can transform her back!"

"She's not a cat, Ron."

"No, she's _an animagus_ , Harry! She can turn into a cat. That's why she bought the other devil – it's misdirection! Plausible deniability!"

"She's not an animagus, Ron," Potter said, slightly red in the face. "Granger is right here." He pointed to Hermione, who Ronald just now realized was standing a bit behind Potter.

His mouth gaped. "But – no… that bloody cat…"

"You thought _I_ was Crookshanks?" Hermione gasped. "How thick are you, Ronald?"

"It keeps trying to eat Scabbers!" he shouted, trembling.

Hermione had to bite back vomit. "You think I want to _eat_ that disgusting vermin?"

"You'd do anything to get at me!"

"I think you overestimate your importance to me, Ronald. If I ate your rat I'd be on your level."

Ronald made a lunge for her but Potter stepped in to stop him.

"Come on, Ron, let's go. She's not worth it."

Potter pulled the red redhead away. Hermione watched them until they disappeared up the stairs, half disgusted, half amused.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"Come on, Hermione. The game starts in half an hour," said Draco. "You need to leave now to get good seats."

"You're not even playing, Draco. Why do I have to go to the game?"

Draco made a face like that was the stupidest question in the world. "It's Quidditch."

"But _you're not playing_ ," she emphasized. "It's just Potter versus Ravenclaw."

"It's Quidditch. Watching all the games gives you an idea of what to expect when I _am_ playing. And Potter has a Firebolt. We've got to see how he handles it."

"Fine. I'll put my bag away and then we'll go," Hermione sighed.

"Oh, I can't."

She blinked. "Excuse me? If you're not going, why should I?"

"Flint wants to meet up before the game," he grinned. "Got something special planned. I'll catch up to you."

Hermione wanted to grind his face into little bits. "Whatever." She shouldered her bag and walked back to her room. Daphne and Tracey were there putting on coats.

"Going to the game?" Tracey asked.

"Apparently," muttered Hermione.

"Excellent," said Daphne. "You can sit with us."

Hermione dumped her bag onto her bed and selected a nice wool jacket. "If it starts to rain, I'm leaving."

"It's not going to rain," Tracey laughed. "It's going to be a good game. I hear Potter's got a Firebolt."

"And he's had time to train on it before the game," added Daphne. "I'm interested to see how Chang handles it. Her broom will be a big concern, but she's fairly clever."

Hermione buttoned up her jacket and followed the girls out of the dorm.

The sky was clear. No rain. But it was a bit breezy. And chilly. In the shadows of the main stands Hermione spotted that dog again. Big, black and waiting patiently for the game to begin. Hermione once again wondered if it was one of Hagrid's magical creatures that actually comprehended the rules of the game. It would be a wonder. The rules couldn't have been more convoluted.

Up in the stands the breeze was more a stabbing wind. Madam Hooch blew the whistle and the game began. Hermione looked around for Draco but didn't see him.

Gryffindor began the blowout game. Ravenclaw hadn't scored a single goal. It would seem that all their hope rested on their seeker. Their seeker on an utterly outclassed broom. The game was as good as over.

Daphne and Tracey, however, didn't agree.

"See what she's doing?" Tracey said. "Chang's getting in Potter's way at every turn. He can't keep the same line for more than a few seconds."

"It's not a winning strategy," Daphne murmured.

"It's the only thing she can do," responded Tracey.

"All she is doing is annoying Potter," said Daphne. "She's a little fly buzzing around his head. If Chang is anywhere near Potter when she sees the snitch, he will overtake her almost immediately. She can only block him from there. She's using a delaying tactic on a team that's already almost losing by a hundred points."

"If she keeps it up Potter may go off the boil," Tracey suggested.

"Doesn't matter. She needs the snitch more than he does. Gryffindor is almost at the Golden Hoop limit."

"Golden Hoop?" asked Hermione.

"The snitch is only worth a hundred and fifty points and it ends the game when caught," Daphne explained. "If a team is already in the lead by more than a hundred-and-fifty, catching the snitch has no effect on the result. The Golden Hoop is a play on the Golden Snitch. The limit is where the team has assured the victory whether or not they catch the snitch. In essence, once that they score, the snitch becomes worthless. The opposition seeker then has to decide whether the game is salvageable. If a comeback is possible – if only to a hundred-and-forty-point deficit – then they will delay, trying to catch the snitch only when it will end the game with a victory."

Hermione watched as a Gryffindor chaser put the quaffle through a hook to make the score 110 – 10. "And if not?"  
"Then they will try to catch the snitch to end the game with dignity," grunted Tracey. "Looks bad for the other seeker – for their team to completely destroy the other team and they can't even catch the snitch."

"Unless they wanted to run up the score," observed Daphne.

"At which point they failed by allowed a 150-point bounce to the other team."

"True…" The three girls leaned over the edge of stands to watch the two seekers dive towards the ground. Potter had almost reached the golden fleck but hand to abort when a bludger came screwing towards him. "That might have been a game winning hit by the Ravenclaw beater." The bells rang. Gryffindor were up by 130. "Then again…"

Potter tried another dive not long after. He pulled up early, leaving the Ravenclaw seeker, Chang, below him. The next second he was blasting towards the opposite end of the pitch.

"He sees it!" Tracey shouted. "And Chang's out of position. That's game."

"What's that?" asked Daphne, pointing a long finger down at the pitch. Three blacked robed figures were gliding after Potter.

"The Dementors are here again? Dumbledore's going to be knocking heads," Daphne grimaced.

Apparently Chang had seen them, too. She gave a shout. Potter turned and quickly reached into his robes for his wand. A silver light erupted from the tip and sped down towards the Dementors. The robed figures seemed stunned at that development. They crumpled and feel to the ground in a heap.

"Those don't look like Dementors…" Hermione said.

Potter shot away and had the snitch in hand within moments.

Tracey shook her head. "Because they aren't."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione held Draco in a fuming stare. "Fifty points."

"It was a good idea at the time…"

"And detention."

"It was Flint's idea."

"Why would you go along with it?"

"Because it's funny when Potter faints."

Hermione didn't know what made her more furious... Draco acting like an arse, Draco thinking she would appreciate him acting like an arse, or Draco making her go to the game to watch him act like an arse. And he still didn't understand that Dementors weren't a joke.

"You didn't even get him to faint."

"That was unexpected."

"You're an arse, Draco."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione lay in bed thinking. It was way too late to be up, but she couldn't go to sleep. Draco was her friend. Best friend. Boyfriend, even, though the subject hadn't been broached yet. She enjoyed his mischief when it came to Potter and Weasley, but recently he had been taking it a bit far. It was one thing to return fire when insulted, but Draco was targeting something very real, very painful. Attacking the Weasleys in the past was fair game. They had it coming. But after the Chamber, after...

Perhaps he did not understand. Not many on the Hogwarts Express were affected the way Potter and Hermione were. Not many understand what it was like. They felt their happiness sucked away, but they didn't fall into a pit of despair. They had no pits carved yet. A lack of happiness does not depression make.

Perhaps, with a loving family and a safe upbringing, Draco didn't understand that the Dementors accessed something dark within. He did not have anything dark there yet. No cracks for the Dementors to exploit.

Hermione had cracks. That was obvious. Very recent cracks.

And she did not think that Draco's pranks were funny at all.

The door to the dorm opened and someone stepped inside. They whispered something, stood for a moment, and then left.

Hermione sat up.

That was strange. No one had ever done that before. Hermione had been up late. She had even stayed up the entire night a few times. That had never happened before.

" _Lumos_ ," she whispered, a hand cupped over the tip of her wand so that the light would not shine as bright. Hermione peered over at the clock. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning. " _Nox_."

Hermione listened to the silence. Maybe some girl had forgotten which dorm was hers. That seemed possible… But as she listened, Hermione heard movement outside. Hushed whispers and more footsteps.

Hermione swung her legs out of bed and slipped on her slippers. She crept to the door and opened it a crack. In the dim light of the hall she saw a five figures. Two were larger than the other three, and robed in black. The smaller of the group were dressed in various sleepwear and Hermione recognized them as the girls' prefects. She stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her.

The first of the two figures she identified was her Arithmancy professor, Vector. That was odd, indeed. Hermione didn't think Vector was a Slytherin, or even seen her near the dungeons.

The three prefects trudged off to their rooms.

"What's going on?" Hermione croaked.

The last figure towered over her. "Nothing you can help with, Miss Granger," Professor Snape drawled. "Back to bed."

"Why'd someone come into my room?" Hermione rubbed her eyes.

"A precaution," Vector said softly. Hermione noticed that both professors had their wands out. There was small dots of glowing green light coming from the walls. And they were moving. The stone snakes that normally curled over the torch hangings were slithering around the walls.

"What's going on?" she asked again, this time more forcefully.

A rumbling sound came from Snape's throat. "If what I've been told is true, then the only _logical_ conclusion is that Longbottom is aiding and abetting the fugitive known as Sirius Black."

"Sir?" Hermione didn't think she heard him right.

"Longbottom gave him a list of passwords to Gryffindor Tower."

* * *

 **A/N: In response to some reviews, let me explain. I may be a bit harsh in my denouncement of Dramione, but that is only to ensure realistic expectations. There are obviously elements of that pairing in the story, but I hope to beat out any idea that it _is_ actually the pairing. Their _romantic_ relationship is not, nor will it become, central to the plot. Hermione's romantic relations are important only as far as they are important to her, and the plot does not create a gravitational pull creating a perfect partnership between Draco and Hermione, or Hermione and anyone else for that matter. When I say there is no pairings, no Dramione, it is because I don't think I should label what will happen before it happens, or bend the story in awkward directions to facilitate some preconceived notion of who I wish to end up with whom. There is no sparkly epilogue already written that I am aiming for, with little children scurrying around the legs of perfectly paired couples while they wait for the Hogwarts Express to take them into the happily-ever-after future, to fulfill my fantasy ending.**

 **If, when I get to the end of book eight, I feel like it is true to the characters and the story - and if they are both still alive - that Hermione and Draco end up together in some way, so be it. I'm not saying it won't. But it isn't the point of the story that they will find true love at the end. And until we get there, I make no guarantees. Hermione could grow old with her house full of cats. She could turn the entire school into her harem. She could bleed out on the rails of King's Cross in the arms of her one true love: Peter Pettigrew. We'll find out at the end.**

 **That being said, I'm not flying by the seat of my pants. I've been doing some advanced plotting and have thoroughly sounded out Hermione's soul at the end of the arc as it exists now, and I think I've found the right way to end it. But I won't really be sure until I write the final chapter and feel it fits.**


	13. A Special Case

**Chapter XIII**

 **A Special Case**

"How's he doing it?" Draco asked, pulling Hermione up into the carriage.

"Magic, I'd assume…" she muttered, eyeing the odd horses. They still creeped her out.

"Hogwarts is a castle. A fortress. Surrounded by Dementors. Black really must be as dangerous as they say."

"Or the staff are incompetent," Hermione mused.

Their carriage rattled on the path down to Hogsmeade. The swift cooling of the air marked the boundary of the grounds. Hermione pushed herself closer to Draco and linked their arms. Out the window she could see the black cloaks of the Dementors. Her heart felt like it was freezing. The clunking of the crariage wheels on rock started to echo like they were riding through a great cavern.

But as quickly as the cold came, it was gone, and the reverberations went silent.

"I heard that Gryffindor is getting security trolls."

Draco nodded. "I heard that too. Stupid, if you ask me."

"At least it's extra security."

"Do they think a few trolls are going to stop Black? I mean, _you_ knocked out a troll when you were eleven."

Hermione turned up her nose. "I'm _me_ , Draco. I'm no ordinary student."

"Of course," he grinned. "But still. Black killed a dozen people with a single spell. The trolls will be mincemeat if he wants."

Hermione shrugged. "Their screaming will alert someone." The carriage ground to a halt and Hermione stepped out.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"I'm not trying to incite a panic," Daphne hiccupped. "But a mass murderer has been flaunting his free access to the castle all year. It's only a matter of _when_ a student turns up sliced to bits."

"Or they find a solitary finger laying on the floor…" Nott murmured, an intense glint in his eye.

" _Exactly!_ " Daphne exclaimed. "Theodore understands."

Draco laughed. " _Theodore_ isn't on your side."

Daphne leaned across the table and tapped her temple. "But Theodore _understands_."

"Shush," Tracey pulled her back into her seat. "You've had too much butterbeer."

"No," she shook her head. "Not enough. I can see clearly now. I know what's going on."

"And what is that?" said Draco.

"They're trying to trap him!" Daphne said seriously. "They let him in the castle so they can snatch him back to Azkaban."

"Then why haven't they caught him?" asked Hermione. "He's been in the castle twice now."

"Because he's too sneaky," Daphne nodded. "They can't catch him."

Tracey sighed. "I think it is time to go." She tugged on Daphne's arm and got her to her feet.

"I'm fine, Tracey. _Ab_ solutely fine."

"Yes, you are. Let's get back in a carriage, yeah?"

Daphne shrugged. "No much else to do, is there?"

Hermione looked over to Draco. He and Nott were huddled close together, conversing in low voices. She stood and followed the girls out.

"You coming with us, Hermione?" Daphne called out. She walked arm in arm with Tracey towards the carriage stop.

"I'll walk with you a bit. Draco wanted to go see the Shrieking Shack after lunch."

"Good!" she said. She hooked her free arm into Hermione's. "So… you and Draco…"

Hermione felt her face warm, even in the chilly air, and her hand went to the necklace under her coat. "What about us?"

"Your kind of a… thing?"

"Come on, Daph," Tracey said, pulling Daphne around, a little smirk on her face.

"I mean… I guess," Hermione hadn't been naïve enough to believe that people hadn't noticed, but that didn't mean she wanted to announce it to the world.

"You _guess_?" Daphne snorted.

"Yes," Hermione corrected. "Yes."

"Is he a good kisser?" Tracey cooed. "What's he look like with his shirt off?"

"I – I'm not answering that," stuttered Hermione.

"No," Daphne looked on approvingly. "A lady does not speak of such things."

"No, a lady does not," agreed Hermione with a smile.

Tracey shook her head. "Fine. But when I bag a Quidditch player I'll give you all the details."

Hermione made a face. "Please don't."

Daphne giggled.

They had reached the carriage.

"Well, I'm sure Draco is lucky to have you," Daphne said, wrapping her arms around Hermione and hugging her tight.

"I think so," Hermione grinned.

"Sorry," Daphne said, disengaging.

"For what?"

"Oh… some people don't like being hugged."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Good… good." Daphne climbed into the carriage with the help of Tracey. "Onwards, invisible horsies!"

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

The old shack was in a state of terrible disrepair. The walls were full of holes, the boards that were nailed across windows swung in the breeze, clattering into each other and creating an eerie, dull wind chime.

"Impressive…" Hermione muttered.

"Isn't it?" said Draco. "Some people say it's been haunted since forever, but Father says it was only built when he was a seventh year."

"How long ago was that?"

Draco shrugged. "Seventies?"

"What was it built for?"

"I don't know. A house?"

"They didn't live there for long, then."

Draco turned away from the shack. "Well, well, look who we have here." Hermione looked over to see Ronald Weasley by himself. "What're you doing here, Weasley? House hunting?" Weasley reddened.

"Even if your family _could_ afford it, which I'm not entirely convinced is the case," Hermione grinned. "I don't think it's on the market." He had brought this on himself. The very _thought_ that Hermione would be able to stomach a _rat_ filled her with fury.

Weasley made to charge them, but stopped suddenly.

"I've just received a letter from my Father, Weasley. That oaf of a teacher is supposed to be giving his testimony right about now. Do you think he will cry when they cut –" Draco's head jerked. A ball of mud splattered across the back of his neck.

Hermione whirled around, reaching for her wand.

But no one was behind them. Just the empty street and woods beyond.

"What was that?" Draco cried, wiping desperately at the mud.

Weasley was laughing up a storm.

"Where'd it come from…" Hermione pondered, scanning the tree-line. There was nothing. And then–

SPLAT.

A glob of something cold and wet hit the back of her head.

Hermione whipped her wand around, but, again, no one was there.

"Who's doing this, Weasley?" she asked the maniacally laughing boy.

Then Hermione spotted something on the ground. An imprint on the soft ground. There. And there again. Like footsteps. They were circling, slowly. Hermione took a step towards them and the stopped suddenly. She took another step. It took a step back. _Someone_ was there.

" _Bombarda!_ " Hermione flicked her wand at the space where the body should have been.

She was rewarded by a grunt and a shimmering in the air. In a second, Potter appeared out of thin air as he hurtled backwards and onto the ground.

The odd quartet stood still for a moment. Potter on the ground, Malfoy and Hermione gaping, and Weasley choking on the last dregs of his laughter.

"You're dead to rights, Potter," Draco said, a smile spreading on his face. "There'll be a party in Slytherin when Snape hauls you off to Dumbledore to be expelled." He grabbed Hermione's sleeve and hurried towards the village.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Perhaps expulsion was too much to hope for. Especially when Potter was concerned. Somehow he had gotten back into the castle before Snape caught him out of bounds, and then Lupin had bailed him out.

Hermione used her pass to the restricted section to dig up a text on the Dementors. She was intrigued by the spell Potter had used at the Quidditch game, and not the lesat because she might be able to use it to keep the cold away. Every time she passed by one of those things...

Hermione hadn't recognized the spell but it would seem to have been a countermeasure to Dementors. She had seen the same silver light on the Hogwarts Express at the start of term. The got her thinking and she realized that she did not know, really understand, what Dementors were.

The book she found explained briefly the history of the Dementors, written by an esteemed Ministry researcher and dated from the early 20th century. It said they were a primal force of nature, they fed on human happiness. They were discovered on the island that held Azkaban and were left there for some time. Sometime in the 1700s they were taken into the employ of the Ministry of Magic as guards of the wizard prison. There weren't many ways to avoid the ill effects the mere presence of Dementors would bring, but the book did mention one spell: the Patronus Charm.

It created a physical manifestation of one's happiest and brightest emotions. The Dementors could not feed on it because it was not living. With enough power, the Patronus could drive Dementors away.

That was what Potter must have used against Draco. The Patronus Charm…

But that hadn't been taught in any class Hermione could remember. And it was supposedly a very advanced spell. It just wasn't like Potter to go off and learn the spell on his own. That's what Hermione did, and Potter was nowhere near the level of Hermione's ability. Someone must have told him about it. Maybe Dumbledore was playing favorites again.

And then Hermione thought back to the Hogwarts Express. Dumbledore wasn't there to cast the Patronus then. He hadn't known to eat chocolate after.

Lupin did, though. Lupin was there.

And Hermione had seen Potter coming from Lupin's classroom not a few days before the Quidditch game.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione entered the Defence classroom. Professor Lupin was setting desks straight and aligning seats properly.

"Professor?" she asked.

"Oh, Miss Granger. What a surprise. What can I do for you?"

Hermione had to approach him carefully. There were all the reasons in the world that he would not want to teach her the Patronus Charm. She had to find the right way to box him in.

"I was wondering about Dementors. They've been out there all year and I still don't know what exactly they are."

"There isn't all that much to them, to be honest," Lupin said softly. "Dementors feed on positive emotions. They are attracted to despair and will sink their victims further into depression the longer they feed."

"I see. So why are they here? What makes them better protection than wizards?"

"The Dementors guard Azkaban. They cannot see, but they can recognize Sirius Black when they are near him."

"They've let him into the castle twice already."

"I know. Believe me, I am no fan of them, either."

"Is there any way to… keep them away from you?"

"There are defences, yes."

"I read about the Patronus Charm," Hermione prodded.

Lupin arched his eyebrow. "Have you now? What did you learn?"

"It can project a shield to keep Dementors away."

"I suppose that is a fine description of how it is used, though it errs on the simple side. The Patronus Charm is quite tricky."

"It can't be that hard if Potter can learn it."

Lupin's eyes narrowed. "What's that?"

"You've been teaching him the charm, right?" Hermione said. "He used it at the Quidditch match."

"You're quite sharp, Miss Granger. Yes, we've been working together on it for a few weeks."

Hermione paused for a moment. There was always the chance Lupin would offer on his own. But it didn't come. "I'd like to learn it, as well."

"Professor Flitwick has spoken of your industrious extra-curricular studies," Lupin nodded with approval. "I wish you good luck."

A frown crept onto her face. "I don't think you understand," though he definitely understood. "I want you to teach me."

"Me?" he said in a forced moment of surprise.

"Yes. You are the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Dementors are dark creatures, are they not?"

Lupin shook his head. "Dementors are not on the curriculum, Miss Granger. I can't change the class for one student's interests."

"No, _Professor_ , I want you to teach me like you've been teaching Potter."

Lupin sighed heavily and settled into a nearby seat. "I'm afraid I don't have any time for any other one-on-one sessions, Miss Granger. I've been fighting an illness this term. I just don't have the energy."

"But Potter gets his needs met?"

"Harry is a special case. He almost died when the Dementors invaded the Quidditch pitch."

"I see."

"I'm glad you understand." Lupin stacked up some papers and deposited them in his briefcase, a sign that this conversation was nearing its conclusion.

"I'll be leaving then," Hermione said.

"Until next class, Miss Granger."

Hermione headed to the door but stopped short. If he wanted to play hardball, she'd oblige. "I have my essay, Professor."

Lupin looked up. "Hmm? I don't remember assigning any essay recently."

"Oh, you didn't. It's the essay Professor Snape assigned. Should I turn it in now, or should I give it to him on the twenty-fifth?"

He was stone still. "Excuse me?"

"The twenty-fifth," Hermione smiled sweetly. "That's the next full moon." She slowly took the essay out of her bag and handed it to Lupin. "Professor Snape will be substituting, right?"

"What are you trying to say?" Lupin said quietly, licking his lips, though he did take the essay.

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing, really. My friend Draco can be a bit on the slow side when it comes to homework. I might have to help him with his essay. You know his father, of course? Lucius Malfoy? I hear he is very influential."

Lupin was giving her a flabbergasted look. He blinked a few times as if to shake a bad dream before realizing that he was, indeed, wide awake. "Are you trying to blackmail me, Miss Granger?"

Hermione crossed her arms and stuck out her jaw. Gryffindors were so hard to deal with sometimes. "I'd have nothing to blackmail you with if you were fulfilling your obligations as Defence professor."

Lupin stared at her for a minute before sighing in resignation. "If you are actually interested in learning… Eight o'clock on Thursday."

* * *

 **A/N: Progress on book IV has been intermittent due to my wandering mind and other projects and ideas that have popped into my head. I only have about 20K words and five chapters written, but I expect that I will speed up as I go forward. The delay isn't all bad, as the first delay was due to planning the next books. I've nailed down most of the major plot points of future installments, but with only 5 chapters left of this year, there may be a more substantial gap between book III and IV, but no more than a few weeks. Call this advanced warning. I fully intend on seeing this out to the end, so don't worry.**


	14. Something Happier

**Chapter XIV**

 **Something Happier**

Hermione returned to the Defence classroom the next Thursday promptly at eight o'clock. It was dim and a little creepy. The sun was already set and there were only a few torches smoldering against the walls.

The door creaked behind her. She turned to see Potter enter. He hesitated when he noticed her presence.

"It's quite alright, Harry," Lupin's voice sounded from behind him. The Professor entered, too, shooing Potter further into the classroom. In Lupin's arms was an old suitcase. "Miss Granger here expressed interest in learning the Patronus Charm, so I've invited her along."

Potter frowned. "She didn't seem to mind Dementors when her boyfriend dressed up as one."

Hermione held back a snarl.

"I do remember that, other than yourself, Miss Granger reacted more… adversely to the Dementor on the Express than anyone else," Lupin said diplomatically, setting the case down on a table. "And if what I've heard about last year is true, then I expect that I know why."

Hermione and Potter glared at each other, but neither offered any words. It was only now that she realized that they had not talked once about what had happened down in the Chamber. Not last year, not this year. It was as if they had skipped over it, neither wishing to speak of anything when they could.

And Hermione was fine with that. The less said the better.

The suitcase began to rattle slightly.

"You said you did some research about a Patronus, Miss Granger?" Lupin asked.

She nodded.

"So you know that you must hold a happy memory in your mind. This memory must be powerful enough to ward off a Dementor. Do you think you have one?"

Hermione felt around her neck for the little silver chain. "Yes."

"The incantation is ' _expecto patronum_ '."

Hermione nodded again.

"Very well. I have in this suitcase a boggart. It worked very well for Harry, but your boggart is not a Dementor."

She shook her head.

Lupin scratched his chin thoughtfully. "We can probably work around that. First, Harry will have a go, just to show you what it's like." He positioned Potter in front of the case. "Ready?" Potter nodded. Lupin opened the case with a flick of his wand and backed away.

Out of the suitcase rose the black, wraith-like figure of a Dementor. The room dropped several degrees and Hermione felt like she had inhaled frost.

Potter stepped forward confidently and swung his wand. " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

A bright silver disk form between the Dementor and Potter. It was as if she had just stepped out of a freezing wind. Potter pushed forward, forcing the Dementor back into the suitcase.

"Excellent, Harry," said Lupin. "Excellent. With practice, I think you could produce a corporeal Patronus in a few years."

"Corporeal?" Hermione asked.

"A weaker Patronus Charm creates only a shield around the caster," he explained. "The shield will eventually fail, but with enough power, your Patronus will take the form of an animal. The corporeal Patronus can chase off Dementors or patrol an area."

The book had evidently left out that particular dimension of the spell. "What kind of animal?"

"That depends on you. Everyone's is different. It is a little bit of your personality that can roam the world with you, protecting you."

A little thought wiggled its way into her head. "Is a Patronus useful against a boggart?"

"A boggart?" Lupin frowned, but more of an introspective pose. "Why would it do that?"

"If a Patronus is created by thinking of a very happy memory, can it dispel the fear of a boggart?"

"An intriguing idea, but a boggart doesn't feed on happy memories. It would be easier to simply deal with it directly. Unless… you wish to test your theory?"

"I think not," Hermione said hastily.

"Very well. Here is what was are going to do. Harry, you'll stand there, just as you did, but this time you won't conjure a Patronus. Miss Granger, you will be a little behind him. When the Dementor come out, you will try the Patronus Charm. With any luck, the boggart will only recognize Harry's fear and you will be free to practice on the Dementor."

"Okay," Hermione said.

"I'm just supposed to let it come at me?" Potter asked.

"You can handle it, Harry. Ready?"

Lupin opened the case with a flick and the Dementor rose again. The cold began anew, creeping up her fingers and into her throat.

"Any time, now…" Potter grimaced.

Hermione cleared her throat and raised her wand. She held the memory of Draco at Christmas in her mind. " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

A puff of silver smoke choked out of her wand.

"Again," Lupin said quickly.

Hermione tried to breathe deep, but her lungs would only accept a small amount of air. The weight of the cold kept her from taking any more in. " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

"Again!"

Hermione closed her eyes tight, trying to relive her memory. " _Expeco Patronum!_ "

" _Expecto Patronum_!" Potter bellowed.

A wave of warmth hit Hermione. She sucking in the warm air.

"Well, I didn't expect the world on your first try," Lupin commented.

"I can do it," Hermione stated.

"I'm sure you will," he said softly. "Eventually. But I would suggest chocolate before you try again." She heard him rustling in his pockets.

"I have my own," said Hermione, reaching into her robes for the Honeydukes bar.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"If you would just _let me_ have the chance –"

"I'm not going to just stand there and let it suck me dry," Potter complained.

"You're not giving me time, Potter," snarled Hermione. "I can do it if I have enough time."

"You've had time," he shrugged. "You've had the time it takes to get from the suitcase to me."

"You're stopping it early," Hermione spat. "Right, Professor? He's conjuring his Patronus too early. I don't get the chance to get it right."

"I think," Lupin said thoughtfully, packing up the suitcase, "that you need a new memory."

"A new memory?"

"It obviously doesn't have enough power. You need a happier memory."

"It _is_ happy," Hermione stuck out her chin.

Lupin spread is hands disarmingly. "I said _happier_ , Miss Granger. I'm not doubting that it is happy, but you need something more important. More lasting."

"Maybe you should think of getting an 'O'," Potter said. "You are desperate enough to get them."

"Harry," Lupin chided.

"Maybe _you_ should _try_ to get an 'O'," growled Hermione.

"I have other things to do than study. And I _have_ gotten an 'O'."

Hermione sniffed. "Perhaps _one_."

"That's enough," Lupin said. "Off to your dormitories. It's getting late."

Hermione picked up her bag and marched out.

Potter followed quickly. "You know, I don't have to be here. If you want to fight a Dementor so badly, just make it your boggart?"

"Please, Potter. I have _real_ fears. Not anything like your pathetic phobia."

"Phobia, huh?" Potter laughed. "I don't get hysterical if a boy calls me pretty."

Hermione ground to a halt.

"So it is true…" Potter murmured.

Hermione turned around slowly. "Where did you hear that?" she asked in a whisper.

Potter shrugged.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Let's just say that not everyone in Slytherin appreciates you as much as Malfoy," Potter stepped away, little by little. "And I'm the least of your worries."

Hermione watched him slip down the hallways and up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. She stood there for a minute or two. Who in Slytherin would have said anything to Potter? It would have to have been someone in her year. No one else was there to witness that class. It could have been someone in her own dorm.

She made her way down to the dungeons at a slow crawl. The common room was busy and loud so her entrance was completely ignored. Hermione found Draco on a familiar couch with Daphne. They had books stacked around them and parchment on top of books.

"The Fountain of Truth?" Draco said.

"Definitely," Daphne nodded, writing something out. "We can put that with the Deathstick."

"Hey, that might be real," Draco said as Hermione sat down next to him. She snaked her hand into his and laid her head on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "The Deathstick is just a story to teach children not to take other people's wands."

"We're doing Binns' stupid essay about mythical things that don't exist," Draco said. "Hey, we could add an intelligent Goyle…"

Daphne hiccupped, barely hiding a grin. "A pretty Flint."

"A civilized Gaunt."

"A sane Black," Daphne giggled.

"If we're taking swipes at close family, then an unpredictable Fawley," Draco smirked.

Daphne arched her eyebrows. "I don't think you want to get into a fight with me. A generous Malfoy."

"A daring Greengrass."

"Please," Daphne sighed. "Astoria has more than enough daring for this generation of Greengrasses."

Draco laughed. "I think 'spunk' is the word you are looking for."

"Oh, I'm looking for anything _but_ that," she shook her head, a little smile on her lips.

Hermione watched on as they traded shots. She had never seen Daphne this… agreeable in the dorms before. She had always been rather closed off before. "Hey, where's Tracey?" Hermione asked abruptly.

"Somewhere doing something," said Daphne. "Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just wondering. You two are always together."

"She's my best friend. Of course we're always together."

"I know," Hermione said in a flat voice. "You told me."

Daphne's eyes rose from her book and gave Hermione a sharp look.

"Are we sure that Flamel had a Philospher's Stone?" Draco asked between them.

"Yes," Hermione ground her teeth. Daphne looked away after a second. "I'm going to my room. Don't wait up."

Hermione stalked off to the dorm and threw her bag on her bed. She took a deep breath. Something was off, and she didn't like it. Hermione didn't quite know what it was. Something about Daphne put her on edge. That hadn't happened before.

She looked around the room. All but one bed was empty. On the opposite side of the room a little lamp was on and the curtains of the bed half closed. Hermione walked over and whipped them all the way open.

Pansy jumped, spilling her papers all over her bed. "What do _you_ want?" she yelped.

"Did you tell anyone?" Hermione growled.

"Tell anyone what?" Pansy clawed at her parchment.

Hermione brought her wand out. "Did you tell anyone about my boggart?"

Pansy slowed her gathering and narrowed her eyes. "Did you tell anyone about mine?" They stayed there for a moment, neither moving. "I didn't tell anyone," Pansy said after a while. "Not yet, anyway."

"Make sure you don't," said Hermione, stowing her wand. "And I won't either."


	15. Cave-In

**Chapter XV**

 **Cave-In**

Slytherin lost the last Quidditch game of the year. Flint and the chasers had put them up quite a few goals but the Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory, bossed Draco around like a little schoolboy. Diggory was only a fifth year but had a large frame and strong arms. He was able to succeed where Chang had failed. Draco could never get up to full speed with Diggory bumping into him every other second.

"It's not your fault," Daphne told a fuming Draco. "The beaters should have given you more support."

"You've got to give it to the badgers," said Tracey. "They knew what they were doing. They kept it close enough on the ground game that you _had_ no support. The beaters had to keep on the Hufflepuff chasers. That Diggory is no fool."

Draco growled.

"That's not helping, Tracey," said Daphne.

"I wasn't trying to," she grinned.

"Well, it was just one game," Hermione said, rubbing Draco's back. "You won the other two."

"Just one game?" Draco cawed, reeling from her touch. "Just one game? Now the damned Gryffindors have a chance to win the cup! Or the _fucking_ Hufflepuffs! _Just one game_ …"

Hermione recoiled. "Yes, _one game_. Gryffindor lost against Hufflepuff, too, so it's not so bad."

"They're _Hufflepuffs_ , Hermione," he shouted. "It _is_ bad."

"Fine," Hermione stood up. "If you want to sulk, go ahead. You have your fan club now. Why not use them?"

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

Thin, wispy vapors oozed from her wand, but did nothing against the Dementor. Potter flung it away with his charm.

"What is your memory, if you don't mind me asking?" said Lupin from across the room.

"It's… first year. When Professor Snape gave back the points McGonagall took from me for fighting a troll."

Lupin blinked.

"He _what_?" exclaimed Potter angrily.

"As astonishing as that sounds, it doesn't really seem like an incredibly powerful image."

"It was more important than you think," said Hermione. "But I can find a new one, I suppose."

"Do so," nodded Lupin. "When you're ready…"

Hermione thought back on her time at Hogwarts. The talk with Snape had been very important to her. But, as Lupin had said, it didn't have enough power. It wasn't happy enough.

She settled on a memory of the preceding summer. At the Malfoy's going-away party, with Daphne and Astoria. Astoria loved her and Daphne... well, Daphne acted like they were really friends. Equals. "Okay."

Lupin flicked the case open and the Dementor rose.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " A little jet of silver mist shot out of her wand. " _Expecto Patronum!_ " The jet increased until it created a little bubble. The Dementor advanced, halted for half a second, and then absorbed the mist and Potter had to send it back.

"An improvement, definitely," Lupin said. "You seem to have the mechanics down to the letter. However, the memory just isn't as powerful as it needs to be. You need to find something important to you. Something intense."

Hermione sat in silent meditation. Something more… Well, Hermione couldn't say she'd had the happiest of childhoods, as bad as that sounds. Happiness was just something that Hermione had never really pursued. What was being happy compared to being successful? Happiness was fleeting. It always left somewhere down the line. It was never enduring. It didn't have to be. It shouldn't be. If it were, the happy moments wouldn't mean anything. To be comfortable, to be content, that was what Hermione desired, after success. To be completely at ease. Happiness was just a bonus.

So she didn't have any blockbuster moments of joy to pull on. She had science fairs. Book projects. Math packets. Each brought her a modicum of pleasure and she sufficed on that. She had a safe home and parents who, despite their recent rows, cared for her and Hermione appreciated that she didn't really _need_ all that much more than that.

That's how she had survived. At least until she reached Hogwarts. Everything changed then. Her home was not completely safe, nor was it entirely comfortable. For the first two years it was akin to the snake and apple in the Garden of Eden. There was the knowledge. The power. All that she ever wanted. But to get that, she had to suffer the wrath of that which she didn't understand.

Until Draco. Until she had a friend. Someone who was there for her. He didn't have to be. He wasn't compelled. In fact, he was discouraged. But he was still there.

 _You're a witch who_ happened _to be born to muggles._

 _That doesn't make sense._

 _To everyone who looks at you and sees an actual person, it does._

 _They still won't talk to me._

 _If you make an effort…_

 _What, we'll become_ friends _?_

 _We are._

Hermione smiled.

"I think I've got it."

She stood and took up her position behind Potter. Lupin flicked open the case.

The air was cold but Hermione hung on to that moment. That dear memory. " _Expecto Patronum!_ " A silver light whooshed out of her wand. A bright disk hovered before her. The Dementor crashed against it. Hermione could hear the rattling breath, but couldn't see the bony hands or the dark hood.

The shield held for a few seconds, and then began to flicker. With every passing moment, it weakened. Just as it was about to fail, Lupin flung the boggart back into the case. "Very good, Miss Granger. I think we're done for today. Have some of your chocolate now. Practice some more on your own, and I think you can pull out an even better memory."

 _An even better memory?_

That _was_ her even better memory.

Hermione chewed on her chocolate bar for a minute. What other memory did she have that could power a bigger and better shield? Or a corporeal Patronus?

She picked up her bag and trudged out of the room, right into the black robes of Severus Snape.

The professor fixed her with a furious expression. "My office. _Now_."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

"I told you that Lupin is a werewolf and you still _chose_ to be alone with him?" Snape's voice echoed off the stone walls in the small office. "Do you have some kind of death wish?"

"Lupin taught Potter the Patronus Charm. I wanted to learn it too."

"You _stupid_ girl," Snape spat. "You're even thicker than Potter. At least _Potter_ has the excuse of _not_ knowing Lupin is a dangerous beast."

"He _is_ the Defence professor, _sir_ ," said Hermione.

"Oh, forgive me," he growled. "I forgot that _all professors were honorable people_. Especially Defence professors." Something caught in Hermione's throat and she couldn't reply. "I thought after last year you'd have some sense in you. Apparently I was wrong."

"Well, maybe it _you_ had made any effort to teach me how to defend myself against Dementors I wouldn't have to go to the werewolf," Hermione choked out.

"Am I to cater to your every need, girl?" he bared his teeth in disgust.

"You're supposed to _help_ me. You're supposed to be my head of house, Professor. All I got last year was a pat on the back and a ticket out of town. After a whole year of hell. A year of looking over my shoulder for a racist murderer!"

"You had your talk with the Headmaster-"

"Whenever I am near a Dementor, I _see_ him, Professor!" she shouted. "I see him again and again. I had nightmares every night over the summer. You never _asked_ me if I was okay. You never told my parents. Hell, there's only five people in this entire school who knows what actually happened. Two of them hate me, one doesn't really understand, and the other is a raving lunatic who want me to ' _make the choices you want to not be evil or wrong but there is no evil and only some things are wrong'._ You think _any_ talk with Dumbledore could reassure me? You want me to stop trying to help myself because you absolutely hate this guy for no other reason than he turns into a wolf once a month? Not because he _might_ be dangerous - because you _hate_ him. Even if he can help, you pretend to be concerned for me out of spite. Can't you show one _ounce_ of sincerity, ever? If you actually care about me, couldn't you have shown it?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She was not going to cry. Not now.

Snape was drumming his fingers on the table. His black eyes were fixed on her own, boring into her. "Who do you see?"

"What do you mean?" she said.

"You said you had nightmares. And you see someone when Dementors are near. Who?"

"Who do you bloody think I see?" Hermione barked as her vision started to be diluted by tears.

"The Dark Lord…?" murmured Snape.

"No, _Lockhart_ ," she seethed.

"Why Lockhart?"

"Are you fucking with me?"

Snape leaned forward. "I assure you, I am not."

"You're serious?"

"I am always serious."

"I watched him die, Professor. I killed him. Is that not reason enough to have fucking _nightmares_?"

Snape settled back into his chair and sat there quietly for a minute.

"The headmaster told the staff that Lockhart died in a cave-in," Snape said at last.

Hermione twitched.

 _Can I assume that Gilderoy was crushed under the cave-in?_

"But I can see now that I have been… misled."

Hermione couldn't believe it. After everything... "Fucking Dumbledore."

Snape was silent for several minutes. "This changes nothing for you. Lupin is still dangerous and you should stay away from him."

"Lupin is helping me – even if he doesn't want to. Just because you don't like him doesn't mean he can't be useful."

Snape shook his head. "You don't understand. Lupin is dangerous, but he is not the only one you should worry about."

"Dumbledore trusts him –" Hermione almost laughed. Dumbledore...

"Lupin's lycanthropy has afflicted him for… quite some time. Before Hogwarts, even. He would never have been allowed to attend had Dumbledore not interfered. I suspect it is that debt that Dumbledore is playing on this year. He hopes it will be enough to ensure his loyalty. However, it is not the wolf's danger that you should be aware of." Snape breathed in slowly. "What do you know of Sirius Black?"

Hermione frowned, wiping her eyes clear with the hem of her robe. "The papers say he was… Tom's right hand man."

Snape blinked. "Tom?"

Hermione nodded.

"The Dark Lord?"

"I know him as Tom."

Snape regarded her with narrow eyes. "In any case, it is quite clear that Black played a major part in the culmination of the war. The pivotal role, one might say."

Hermione thought back to her history books. Sirius Black was an ominous figure in modern history books, but one without much substance. He wasn't unmasked until after Tom had disappeared. "Didn't he lead Tom to the Potters?"

"Indeed," Snape growled. "Straight to them. And murdered Potter's friend Pettigrew a few hours later, for good measure. Not that I'm broken up about it. Pettigrew was slime."

"Okay, so what does Black have to do with Lupin?"

"Everything. Black was a rash, reckless, glory hunter, even in his school days. Now what do you think he did when he found out there was a werewolf living in his very own dorm?" Snape's lip quivered with rage. "Black found something to make himself feel special – a beast no one else would want to be near – and Lupin had someone to rub his belly. While Black marauded around the castle sewing chaos and carnage, Lupin trotted along at his heels without a word of worry."

"They were friends in school?"

"I wouldn't say that. Black used him and Lupin let it happen."

"Used him for what?"

"Attempted murder. Lupin was locked in the Shrieking Shack during the full moon. There was a tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow that led directly there. When I figured out that Lupin was a werewolf, Black set the beast on me. Now, Dumbledore is gambling that the leash has been severed from the collar."

* * *

 **:/ Take what you will from this chapter. Ties some things up for the finale. Action starts next week.**


	16. Not Just a Rat

**Chapter XVI**

 **Not Just a Rat**

"You."

Hermione looked up from her book. Of all the empty tables in the library, Potter and Weasley decided to lord over _her_ table.

"What is it, Ronald?"

"Get Malfoy to lay off Hagrid," Potter said with an edge.

"What's he done this time?" Hermione sighed.

"His father is trying to get Buckbeak killed," Ronald said in an accusing voice.

Hermione cocked her head. "I was talking about the giant…"

"Get Malfoy to stop it," Potter said.

"One: why? Two: why me? Three: nevermind. Get out of here, I'm reading." Hermione turned her attention back to her book, which was promptly shut in her face by Ronald.

"One: because Malfoy is a lying prick and Buckbeak didn't do anything wrong. Two: you've got your _boyfriend_ tied around your finger. Three: you owe me."

Hermione snorted. "Not a single truthful statement, Ronald. Congratulations. The hippogriff mauled Draco. That'swrong. If you knew _anything_ about _anything_ you'd know Draco and my relationship is a mutual partnership, not that you'd know what one of those was…" Hermione couldn't help a smirk and take a quick but pointed look at Potter. "and the notion that I owe you a single knut is outrageous."

Ronald's ears burned red. "You tried –"

"What the hell is that?" Hermione leapt out of her seat. Something in Weasley's pocket was moving. Squirming.

He moved his hand to cover it. "It's Scabbers. Your minion won't let him be. The thing always gets back into our dormitory and starts terrorizing him."

Hermione almost gagged. "You carry around a _rat_ in your pocket?"

"He's a family pet, Granger. Maybe that's something _you'd_ never know about."

"Are you trying to insult me?" Hermione asked. "Because having a _rat_ as a pet is a lot worse than having no pet at all. It's sad, really."

"Forget it," Potter said finally. "Get Malfoy's father to stop and we can all leave each other alone."

"If you think I have sway over Mr. Malfoy then you are dumber than I thought, Potter."

"But Malfoy says his father listens to him."

Hermione sneered. "He _is_ campaigning to off the bird, isn't he?"

Potter and Weasley both looked as if they were about to pop a vein.

" _ANIMALS_ IN THE LIBRARY?"

Madam Pince was shrieking. A streak of orange darted across the floor towards the trio. Crookshanks sprang into the air, hissing and clawing at Ronald. He spun out of the way, clutching at his pocket.

"Crookshanks, no!" Hermione berated her cat.

"Out! Out! Out!" Pince screamed at them. "I'll have all of you expelled at once!"

"Get it away!" Ronald screamed, backpedaling out of the library trying to fend off Crookshanks. Hermione and Potter hurried after him.

"Come on, Crookshanks. Stop it!"

"The thing is mad, I tell you!" Ronald cried shakily. He had his rat out of his pocket now and held him close to his chest, out of range of Crookshanks' claws.

"He just gets excited," Hermione said. "Cats are _supposed_ to hunt rats, you know."

"Cats are _supposed_ to take a hint," Potter grumbled, swinging a wild kick that Crookshanks easily scampered out of the way of.

"Watch it, Potter," Hermione growled. "Maybe he'll spend the day in the owlry, right next to your precious fowl."

"Oww!" Ronald screamed, but Crookshanks was still on the ground. "He bit me!" A little brown rat belly-flopped onto the floor and took off down the hallways. Crookshanks was after him like a lightning bolt.

Weasley ran after the animals and Hermione followed.

"Crookshanks!" yelled Hermione. "Don't eat the pest! It could have rabies!"

"Your cat is the rabid one," Ronald shouted back.

They followed the pursuit out into the evening air, straight through the courtyard and across the bridge.

They found Crookshanks standing in the tall grass a few meters off the dirty path down to the forest.

"Where is he?" gasped Weasley. The rat was nowhere to be seen. Crookshanks prowled forward. He, too, seemed to have lost the trail.

"What kind of rat is that?" Hermione asked. "How the hell did it outrun Crookshanks?"

Ronald and Potter waded further and further into the field. "If he runs away because of _your_ furry pig –"

Hermione curled her hands under Crookshanks and pulled him off the ground. "Don't listen to him. _He's_ the pig." Crookshanks peered from side to side, using Hermione as an improvised watchtower. "Where's that disgusting creature, hmm?" she hummed as Crookshanks twisted in her arms. "We wouldn't want Ronald to be without his family mascot."

Light was fading fast. The sun had already sunk beyond the horizon. "Are you two planning on breaking curfew?" Hermione called, stroking Crookshanks to calm down his jerking.

"There you are!" shouted Ronald. He bent over and scooped the rat into his pocket. Crookshanks sprung out of Hermione's arms but she wasn't paying attention. In the darkness she hadn't seen it until now. The large black dog was there. It had creeped up the hill and laid low. Now it was standing tall, alert, ears aimed forward. It was staring straight at Potter.

"Hey," she yelled, pointing at the dog, but couldn't figure out the right words.

The dog shot forward.

"Look out!"

Potter turned to her, then the canine lunged at him. Potter threw himself to the ground.

The dog leapt into the air, barely missing Potter and colliding with Weasley. The dog rolled off Ronald and sunk his teeth into his arm. Within moments, Ronald was being dragged across the grass into the fading light.

Hermione's wand was out. " _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Her spell sank into the twilight, but there was no change in the dog's growls or Ronald's screams. Potter charged after them and Hermione followed. " _Petrificus Tot-"_

There was a groan in the darkness; a long, slow, ominous groan. Potter fell with a thud.

She skidded to a stop. Potter was just picking himself up when Hermione heard something whipping through the air. With a crack, a thin branch lashed her across the face and she hit the ground.

Hermione rolled over, putting a hand to her face. A streak of warm blood showed on her palm. She looked into the darkness and made out the rustling shape of the Whompling Willow. Beneath the swaying limbs, the dog was dragging Ronald towards it's trunk.

"Ron!" Potter made a break for the trunk but was tossed aside by a thick branch. Hermione stood and watched Ronald disappear between the roots of the tree with a sickening snap and scream.

Hermione breathed deep, trying to settle herself and focus on the problem at hand. _There tunnel opens through the roots so we can assume someone put it there on purpose…_ _to protect it._ The tunnel would have been buried if the tree was not meant to be on top of it. So the tree was there on purpose. It was meant to be there. And the tunnel was still meant to be used. So there was a solution to the problem.

No one wanted to be near the tree. The branches could be deadly. But that seemed to be the only obstacle. Swinging branches. If the damned thing were like an actual tree, things wouldn't be so hard…

Hermione laughed at the simplicity. So simple that it wouldn't occur to anyone who didn't know about the tunnel, but incredibly easy for anyone who _did_.

She raised her wand to the tree. " _Immobulus!_ "

The tree creaked and starting to stiffen, from the trunk all the way out to the rustling twigs. In a few seconds, the whole tree shuddered to a standstill.

"Brilliant," said Potter.

Hermione smiled. Then it fell off her face. This was the _Whomping Willow_. With a tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack. The very shack Lupin turned in every full moon during his school days. Where Black was known to lurk.

Potter started forward.

"Wait," cried Hermione. "We can't."

"You just got us in, Granger," he said.

"That's not the problem."

"We have to go after Ron!"

"No, we _can't_!" Hermione grabbed his arm and started to tug.

"Get off, Granger. What's your problem?"

"This isn't a good idea. We need help."

"The dog took Ron. It's going to kill Ron," he growled, pulling away from her. "We don't have time."

"Fine." Hermione let go of him and pointed her wand at him. " _Petrificus Totalus_."

Potter went rigid and fell to the ground.

Hermione hauled him by the ankles until he was out of the willow's territory.

"Sorry, but if I don't do this, you're going to get yourself killed – by Black or the damned tree, it doesn't matter." Hermione pried his wand out of his stiff fingers and tucked it in her back pocket.

She walked to the tree trunk. Crookshanks pranced up next to her. "Go get Snape or Dumbledore," she called to Potter. "Don't worry about Ronald. Maybe this will get him off my back. _Finite_." The tree sprung back to life, furious branches swiping at air. Potter stood up.

"What do you think you're doing, Granger?"

"Teachers, Potter!" she said. "You can't get in without a wand. Go get Snape and say where I've gone. He'll understand."

Hermione turned back to the tree trunk and slid into the hole in the roots. The slide was rough and dirty but, on the whole, a lot better than the slide down into the Chamber.

The tunnel was pitch black underneath the tree.

" _Lumos_."

The passageway was small but clear of debris. Crookshanks trotted along ahead of her, leading her forward. With each step Hermione started to wonder what the hell she had just done.

If she was wrong, it was no more dangerous for Potter to go after the dog than her.

If she was right, she was no better off than Potter would have been. If it _was_ Black's doing, then her actions seemed just about suicidal.

The tunnel began to rise. Crookshanks sprinted forward and disappeared. Hermione come upon a hole in the tunnel. Above it was a dark room. The Shrieking Shack.

She lifted herself up into the room. Dust caked onto her palms. All the windows were boarded up and every piece of furniture was smashed to bits.

Something creaked above her.

Hermione's heart started its intense cadence.

To fight or flee?

Her inner thoughts fought each other. Questioned her choice to follow the dog. What the hell _was_ she thinking?

What was she doing? She owned nothing to Weasley. She had saved his life once before. He owed _her_.

And she was even with Potter. Nothing to make up for there.

Which made this even more baffling to her inner self. But, nevertheless, she started moving again. A little voice said she had come this far. She was going all the way. And no one would take her credit this time.

Hermione crept up the stairs, one at a time. " _Nox_ ," she said as she reached the top. Only one door was open on the whole floor. It hung there, slightly open, inviting her to enter. Hermione scuttled to the wall beside it and peered in.

All she could see was a thin strip of wall.

Hermione took a moment to prepare. Whatever was in there, she could handle it. She'd handled worse. A deranged teacher. A basilisk. Tom.

Hermione stood tall, gripped her wand firmly. She raised it and kicked open the door.

A large four-poster bed sat across the room, covered in blankets of dust. Crookshanks perched himself in the middle of it, purring. At the foot of the bed, on the floor, lay Ronald. He gaped at her before pointing a shaking finger at the wall to her right.

"It's a trap! _He's an animagus_!"

Hermione stepped inside and twisted to where Ronald was pointing. She barely registered the shape of a man there before firing off her spell. " _Bombarda!_ "

The man flicked his wand at the last second and Hermione's spell had no effect.

" _Diffindo_!" she slashed across his chest, but he flicked it away again.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " he muttered.

Hermione's shield was too late. Her wand zipped out of her fingers and into his hand.

His hair was tangled and dirty and fell well below his shoulders. A ratty beard clung to his face and his eyes were sunk into his sockets, but shone with passion.

He peered into the hallway, his wand was trained on Hermione, before shutting the door.

"Where's Harry?" he croaked.

"Safe," Hermione quivered. "You can go get him, though, if you like. All you have to do is run up the tunnel."

"Up the tunnel?" he grinned. "I might just do that. But business, first."

"What business?" she asked. "Potter is waiting outside the willow."

Black leered. "I'd like to see Harry, yes... I just need to commit a murder first."

Hermione gulped. Her hand was shaking but found its way to Potter's wand, stuck firmly in her back pocket. "Ronald here is a big fan of Dumbledore. He's a Weasley. Some say he's a blood-traitor."

" _What are you doing?_ " Weasley hissed.

Black threw back his head in a hollow, fatigued laughed. "You could be a Black, talking like that." His ghastly smile vanished in an instant and he leveled his wand at her. "Get out of my way, girl."

Hermione slowly stepped to the side. Black bared his teeth and advanced on the injured Weasley. When she saw his back she drew Potter's wand. " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Two wands soared over Black's head and into Hermione's hands. The ragged man turned slowly, wobbling unstably. "Definitely a Black," he let out a raspy chuckle and extended a hand. "Well played, but this is no time to fool about. Give me a wand, girl."

Hermione swung her wand high. " _Bombarda!_ "

The spell connected with Black's face. He toppled over with a gurgled scream. His hand felt for his nose and came up bloody.

Hermione sneered at him. "I'm not one of your precious _Blacks_ ," she said spitefully. "People call me _mudblood_."

Through Black's coughing she thought she heard laughter. "Muggle-born, eh?" he hacked, blood dripping off his face to mix with the dust on the floor.

"Embarrassed?" she spat, tossing Ronald his wand. "The great Sirius Black, Tom Riddle's most savage follower, brought low by a Muggle-born girl?"

"Tom Riddle?"

"Your precious Dark Lord."

"Is that what you think?" Black peered through his bloody hands at her.

"You're not getting Potter. You're not even getting Weasley. Dumbledore will be here soon and you'll be hauled back to Azkaban."

"Fine," Black shrugged. "I'm not here for Harry. I'll go quietly."

"What?" That threw Hermione. Was he planning something?

Black rolled onto his side and pointed with a blood finger at Ronald. "I want the rat. Just let me kill the rat."

Ronald's pocket began to squeak and wriggle.

"The rat?"

Black nodded, crazy eyes bulging. "Give him to me." He reached out towards Ronald and started to crawl. Hermione jumped forward and stomped on his back. Black gasped and splattered the floor with more blood.

"I give you the rat and you go, just like that?"

"Just like that," he breathed, still reaching towards the redhead. The pocket was panicking.

"Don't, Granger," Weasley said. "Scabbers hasn't done anything."

" _Scabbers_?" Black hissed.

"Why do you want the rat?" Hermione asked nervously, shifting her weight. She was starting to realize that she didn't exactly have a plan.

"Because," Black licked his lips. "It's not a rat."

"Not a rat?" Weasley exclaimed. "He's bonkers, Granger! Don't listen to him."

"What do you mean?"

Black flexed his fingers as if envisioning a hold on Scabbers. "His name… is Peter Pettigrew."

Hermione snorted. "You killed Pettigrew twelve years ago."

"No!" shouted Black. "No… I thought I did, but then I saw. I _saw_ him again. In the paper…"

"The Dementors have rotted his brain," said Ronald.

"You blasted Pettigrew apart. The only thing left was –"

"A finger!" Black cried, clutching his own pinkie. "One little finger. Yes! That was all they found. All they found," he gazed gleefully at Weasley. "That rat. It is missing a finger. One little finger," he looked up to Hermione hopefully. "You have to believe me."

Hermione looked between the pathetic looking Black, wringing his hands as if contemplating crushing the rat to death, and Weasley, looking paler by the minute.

"Okay, even if it _is_ Pettigrew – if you didn't kill him all those years ago, why would I let you finish the job? Why would I let you kill another innocent man?"

Black cackled. "Innocent? _Innocent?_ Peter is anything but _innocent_. And he knows it." Scabbers was trying to gnaw his way out of the pocket. "Look at him!"

"Then what is he guilty of?" Hermione demanded, pressing Black harder into the floor with her foot.

" _Everything_. He was Voldemort's spy. He betrayed Lily and James! He murdered them! He is the reason I spent twelve years in Azkaban!"

"You betrayed the Potters," Hermione growled.

"No!" he sobbed. "No. It was _Peter_. I was never their secret-keeper. It was Peter!"

"Secret-keeper?" Hermione asked.

"Lily and James went under the Fidelius Charm. Everyone thought I would be their keeper, so we switched at the last minute. We thought it would throw of Voldemort. But we played right into his hands…"

Hermione could see tears in his eyes.

"It was my fault. My idea. I got them killed, but I didn't betray them. _Never_." Black was whimpering now, clawing in the direction of Scabbers, who Weasley now had to keep hold of with two hands.

Hermione bit her lip. This was never part of the play. Black was supposed to be bloodthirsty, cruel, and dangerous, but he really only seemed pathetic. Okay, bloodthirsty, perhaps, but not directed at anything but a rat. Even Hermione hated rats.

"Can you prove that this is Pettigrew?"

"Yes!" Black heaved. "I can! I can turn him back. Give me a wand. Let me do it!"

"Stay still," Hermione stepped heavily on Black's back and, wand still trained on him, moved over to Ronald.

"You can't believe him?" he said weakly, his face very pale.

"The rat," Hermione ordered, holding out a hand.

"No," Ronald said, but yelped as Scabbers bit him and jumped out of his hands. The rat dove across the floor but Hermione stamped on its tail. It squeaked in pain.

" _Immobulus_ ," she hissed and the rat froze.

Black was on his knees, hands extended, as if a prayer was answered.

"Back off," she growled, pointing her wand in his face.

He looked pained, but slid away. Hermione grabbed the rat's tail with two fingers and saw that it was, indeed missing a toe. She tossed it across the room. "Here, Black," she said, pointing the spot on the floor in front of her. Black, practically drooling at Scabbers, crawled over, hand reaching for a wand. "Face the rat," she said. He faced the door and Hermione stuck her wand in the back of his neck and stepped on the back of his knee. "If you so much as look at me, you won't have a head anymore." Black nodded so fast he vibrated. "Transform him," she said, passing Potter's wand to Black over his left shoulder. Black took it with his right hand and pointed at the rat.

He shook. Nothing else. He knelt there, wand pointing at the still Scabbers, but didn't move but for little tremors. "You have five seconds, Black," Hermione warned.

"It's been twelve years…" he whispered. "I've waited twelve years for this…"

He muttered under his breath and waved the wand.


	17. Burning Sky

**A/N: Very off topic, but in this story jewelry given does not mean engagement, contractual obligation, etc., as per fanon - unless intended and accepted as such. Narcissa's ring is very different from Hermione's necklace. Just wanted to clear that up.**

 **And apologies for the late update. I was busy all day Friday and didn't have the time to proof-read before posting, so I waited.**

* * *

 **Chapter XVII**

 **Burning Sky**

Scabbers' little brown body rippled. His head inflated. Legs and arms sprouted out and his body grew until a grown man lay face down on the floor, a matte of dirty hair clumped on his head around a bald spot.

"Peter," Black snarled, lunging at the prostrated man.

Hermione put all of her weight onto Black's leg and they toppled forward onto the ground. Hermione pressed her knee into his back and grappled Potter's wand away from him.

"I didn't say you could kill him, Black," she hissed. The grimy man tried to slip away from her but she held him still. "This still proves nothing more than Pettigrew is an animagus."

Pettigrew - for it must be Pettigrew - was still under the effects of Hermione's freezing charm. Hermione stood slowly and looked back at Ronald. "If he moves," she motioned to Black, "Shoot him." He nodded grimly, holding his wand out.

Hermione, keeping an eye on Black, walked over to Pettigrew. She rolled him over with her foot. He was an ugly man. His skin was blotched and he looked like he had lost weight too fast. " _Finite_ ," she said.

Pettigrew blinked to life. He peered around the room, eyes wide. He pointed with shuddering fingers at Black. "It's Si-sirius Bl-l-lack!"

"I know," Hermione said. "And you're Peter Pettigrew?"

The man nodded after a moment.

"Why have you been hiding for twelve years?"

The man trembled, looking around the room again, eyes locating every window and door. "I knew Sirius would come after me, eventually," he squeaked. "Thank goodness you were here to save me!"

Black growled.

"Black was in Azkaban for a decade, and you knew it."

Pettigrew laughed nervously. "You think Azkaban would hold a such a powerful dark wizard as Sirius?"

"No one has ever escaped Azkaban before," said Hermione evenly.

"You-know-who taught him personally! Sirius learned some tricks from him!"

"How do you know that?" Hermione cocked her head.

"Sirius was the spy!"

"How do you know?"

"He gave up Lily and James!" he squeaked.

"Then let's go tell Dumbledore that."

Pettigrew gulped, flicking his eyes to the door. "Sirius won't let me get that far."

"What do you say, Black?" Hermione asked without taking her eyes off the rat. "A little jaunt up to the castle?"

Black licked his lips. "If you get him there, I'll go too."

"Don't trust him…" Pettigrew whined.

"Up," Hermione told him.

He sobbed and started pulling himself to his feet, then dove towards the door. Pettigrew scrambled on all fours out the door and around the corner.

Hermione dashed into the doorway and shouted, " _Imperio!_ "

Pettigrew stopped dead in his tracks, twitching. Hermione felt a wave of warm satisfaction. She turned back to Black.

"I could just kill him now," he suggested. "Please… it would be quicker than he deserves…"

"No," Hermione said. " _Imperio_."

Black stiffened for a moment, then sighed and sat up.

Hermione smiled and tossed him Potter's wand. "Levitate Weasley and follow me."

Black stood without protest and lifted Ronald into the air. The redhead looked completely blank and out of it.

Hermione marched out of the room. "Move," she commanded Pettigrew and he started down the stairs. Ronald floated behind her and Black took up the back. Hermione was jumping with adrenaline the entire trip through the tunnel. Not only had she captured the elusive fugitive Sirius Black, she had also discovered that Peter Pettigrew was not only alive, but most likely more involved with the Potters' deaths than previously thought.

Her name would be plastered in every paper. She'd probably collect another commendation from the school. Order of Merlin, possibly. That depended on how well the Ministry received their ginormous screw-up.

She was still grinning silly when they emerged into the dark night sky. A cool breeze swept over her. Pettigrew fumbled with something on the trunk and the Whomping Willow slowed to a standstill.

Hermione could just make out the spires of Hogwarts against the starry night. She took one step towards the path up to the castle and was startled by a light conjured immediately in front of her.

There was a shout and something clattered into Hermione, sending her spinning to ground.

Hermione peered into the gloom to see Black tackled by a flying form. Wealsey was immediately dropped from his magical stretcher and cried out in pain when he hit the ground.

"Harry, no!" someone shouted.

The light source darted towards Potter and Black, pulling the boy off his prey.

"He killed them!" Potter was screaming. "He killed my parents!"

"Wait, Harry."

Hermione remembered that voice. Too calm for the situation. Too careful.

She rubbed her eyes clear and lit her own wand.

Ronald was on the ground not far from Black, who's bloody and broken nose, courtesy of Hermione, had been joined by a split lip and darkening eye from a few well-placed hits from Potter.

"Get off him, Harry," Lupin said, holding him back. "Where is he, Sirius?"

Hermione saw the huddling form of Pettigrew trying to slip away in the darkness. He took one step, shaking his head, muttering something. He shuddered. His face rippled and grew fur, then reverted to his human form.

Lupin appeared beside Hermione. "I don't believe it," he breathed.

"R-r-r-remus…" Pettigrew choked, twitching all over.

Lupin crouched down beside the dirty man. "What did you do to him, Granger?"

"It was _him!_ " Black whined. "I never –"

" _Shut up!_ " Potter screamed.

"Harry, calm down," Lupin said. "Sirius was accused of killing Peter Pettigrew."

"And he did. Fudge said –"

"Fudge was there but he didn't _see_ ," sighed Black. He hadn't gotten to his feet yet. "I didn't either. But I figured it out."

"Harry, this is Peter. If he is alive, then everything we have been told may have been false," said Lupin, standing up again.

"Remus… you have to believe me. It was Peter."

"D-d-don't, Remus!" Pettigrew cried. He was clawing up dirt now.

"You were James' and Lily's secret keeper," Lupin said to Black.

"We switched."

"Why?" Lupin demanded.

Black took a moment, grasped for words. "I thought it was clever…we didn't think…"

"So what if he didn't kill Pettigrew then?" Potter sputtered, looking from Lupin to Black. "How does that change anything?"

Lupin tapped Pettigrew with the toe of his boot and the rat whimpered. "Why would an innocent man hide as a rat for twelve years?"

Pettigrew was silent. A bolt of red light from Lupin's wand struck Pettigrew in the back and he toppled forward.

"I don't care," said Potter.

"Your father would want you to," Black mumbled. "You look just like him."

Potter lunged at him. Black scrambled backwards and Lupin restrained the impulsive boy.

"He was their secret keeper!" Potter snarled, raging against Lupin's hold. "HE KILLED THEM!"

Black shook his head violently. "I'm to blame. I'm to blame, but I was not their secret keeper. I convinced James to trust the rat. I thought… Everyone expected it to be me. Everyone. So if Pettigrew was the keeper, Voldemort would go after the wrong person."

"It worked," Lupin said in a heavy voice. "Too well."

Black nodded. "No one questioned that it was I who told their secret. No one at all. Not even my friend…"

Lupin's eyes were downcast. "If you told me I could have..."

Black held up his hands. "It was the plan, Remus. Even you were fooled. It worked too well…"

"Except Voldemort got to Peter."

"Or Pettigrew went to him," Hermione said. Everyone turned to her. "He was free when Black attacked him, right? After Potter's… he wasn't locked up in Tom's lair. He hadn't been tortured or anything, right? Or you wouldn't have attacked him."

Black nodded again.

"I don't understand," Potter said. "How did he even get here?"

"Scabbers," she said.

"He's an animagus," Black added. "A rat."

Potter stared at the fallen man. " _Scabbers_?"

"I'm curious, though," said Hermione. "Pettigrew wasn't listed on the animagus registry. Black wasn't either, for that matter."

"Nor was James," Black said sadly.

"My father?" Potter started.

Black nodded.

"They did it for me."

Potter turned to Lupin. "Why?"

"He's a werewolf," blurted Hermione.

Potter gaped.

Lupin nodded. "Miss Granger managed to puzzle it out. After half a year and spending no more than three hours in my company each week. I shared a dorm with Sirius, James and Peter for seven years."

"I still don't understand."

But Hermione did. "A werewolf's bite will infect a human with lycanthropy. But not an animal."

"Clever girl," Black chuckled darkly. "Took us a while to figure that."

"And then three years to actually achieve it," said Lupin. "They kept me company when I transformed. Once a month I was taken through this tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, where I would become the wolf and keep everyone safe. But with Sirius and James to keep me in check as their animagi forms, we were able to go on… adventures. We traveled the grounds. The woods. Down to Hogsmeade…"

"You got _out_ of the shack?" Hermione asked shrilly. "As a _werewolf_? Into a populated area with only three schoolboys to make sure you didn't kill anyone?"

Lupin paled. "Yes, I do regret it now. But then, it was the happiest time of my life."

"How happy were you when Black almost had you kill Professor Snape?" Hermione snarled. "I bet you were _bouncing_."

The werewolf cringed.

" _Professor_ Snape?" Black coughed heavily.

"He teaches here, too," said Lupin. "No, Hermione, I was not happy. But nor could I control myself. As the wolf I saw a human and tried to attack. Sirius played a joke and it went too far. I'm sure he can admit to that."

Black bared his teeth. "Snape got what was coming. He was trying to expose you so you'd be expelled."

"Sirius told him how to get into the tunnel. So Severus followed me. James found out and pulled him out, but not before he saw me. He knew what I was, but Dumbledore forbid him from telling anyone."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "You didn't get punished?"

"We knew we had to step very carefully after that."

A silky voice pierced the darkness. "Call this a misstep, then."

Hermione swung around and stared into the face of Professor Snape.

Hermione felt an invisible force wrap around her waist and pull her sideways. The snaps and pops had begun even before she hit the ground. Streaks of spells faster than Hermione had ever seen shot from Snape's wand, crashing into Lupin's shield with bright, split-second flashes and illuminating his grim face.

A jet of red streaked across Hermione's vision. Snape pivoted, sending it soaring away with a precise flick of his wand. He ceased his salvo, striking up a defensive posture against the double team.

"Severus, this is not necessary," said Lupin, standing still, wand at the ready. "Sirius –"

"Dumbledore will be disappointed with you… again," Snape sneered.

"Severus –"

"Give it up, Remus," Black cawed. He was wearing a mad grin, blood splattered across his gaunt face, and pacing excitedly. "Snivelus has his heart set on reliving the glory days."

A malicious laugh escaped Snape's throat. "I'd say twelve years with the Dementors has addled your mind, Black, but you've always lived in a delusional world."

"I'm still here," Black hissed, tapping his forehead. "The Dementors can't take _me_ away. I know what I'm guilty of. I've done my penance. I'm no Death Eater hiding behind Dumbledore's coattails."

"I can say it's twelve years well spent by both of us," Snape sneered. "You in your hole, me in my hell." A flash as bright as the sun exploded from Snape's wand.

Hermione buried her blinded eyes in the crook of her elbow. She heard a cacophony of shouts and bangs, whooshes in the air then something thudded somewhere to her right. Hermione rubbed the light spots out of her eyes and saw Potter groaning beside her.

The duel was like watching fireworks crackling in a dark sky. Projectiles whistled through the air and exploded upon hastily erected shields or ricocheted off in harmless directions. The spells came rapidly, faster than anyone could speak. Indeed, none of the wizards _were_ saying words. They cast spells without uttering any incantations. And none of them had taken any direct hits yet.

Lupin stood like a wall in front of Black. Any spell Snape fired off was deflected by the Defence professor. Black was acting as heavy artillery. Every few instants he would jump out from behind Lupin, launch a massive spell and quickly retreat.

Snape swatted aside Lupin's attacks, but had to conjure a full shield to absorb Black's bombardment. In the ensuing explosion he would change position and counter-attack, trying to catch Lupin off-guard.

Hermione was awestruck by the lightshow. No jinxes. No hexes. No one was casting Dancing Charms. It was a _real_ wizard's duel. Three veterans of the war showing why they survived. Why they were alive to tell the story when so many others were not.

Potter jumped to his feet and dashed toward Ronald. Hermione watched him scoop up Weasley's wand and point it at Snape's unprotected back.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Hermione cried instinctively.

The wand jumped out of Potter's hand, hit the willow trunk and bouncing within reaching distance of him.

Hermione was on her feet and charging him before he managed to retrieve it.

As Potter straightened up, Hermione lowered her shoulder and caught him full on. She toppled over him and landed hard on a cluster of roots.

Weasley's wand fell directly between them. Potter glared at her and dove for it. Hermione reached it at the same time. She held the wand with white knuckles, but Potter wrenched it away.

There was a shout from behind her and a whoosh of air.

A fireball shot through the air, clipping the shoulder of the onrushing Sirius Black. He stumbled and fell several feet away, his shirt smoldering. The smell of burnt flesh filtered into Hermione's nose and she had to bite down bile.

"Stay out of this, Harry," Lupin called.

The two wizards had stopped firing off spells. Now they faced each other, still and silent. The few seconds that passed felt like minutes.

Then Lupin twitched violently and jabbed with his wand. Sparkling light jetted out into the air between them. Snape flicked it away. Lupin stepped forward again, another missile launched. And another. Snape deflected it upwards into the branches of the tree, where is buzzed around before fizzling. The willow groaned.

Lupin made another stab. Snape sidestepped and countered with his own spell. He swung high, then low. Lupin blocked both but was pushed back. Snape pressed forward, increasing the speed of his volley. The flurry of attacks created a semi-sphere of explosions around the Defence professor, the release of magical energy on Lupin's shield. Snape's teeth were bared in a triumphant snarl. Something had snapped and Lupin could not hold off much longer. His defence was crumbling. Snape lashed out and Lupin was caught across the shoulder. Droplets of bloods showered the ground.

Snape stood tall to strike the finishing blow when a bolt of red shot towards him. Black was up again.

Snape fell out of the way and retaliated. It was nothing like his duel with Lupin. There was no pause, no contemplation. Black came at him like a rabid animal. He used Potter's wand like a hammer, pounding and pounding on Snape's shield.

And then Black was swatted aside like a doll.

Snape looked up, and the ground beneath Hermione began to move.

The air whistled. A large branch came crashing down on Snape.

The Whomping Willow had woken again.

A branch lashed the air above Hermione's head. She tumbled forward and pointed her wand up at the tree, but a branch clubbed her head and she was on the ground again. She could only look up and watch as the branch rose high and fell back towards the earth.

But it never hit her. It was as if a giant sword came swinging in and chopped the branch in two. The severed half floundered in the air and crashed some ten feet to her left. A wave of heat washed over her. The air above her sizzled. She rolled over and saw Snape conjuring a whirlwind of flames around himself. Any branch that came close was burnt to a crisp. The storm expanded, launching flares at the tree. The willow, as if it knew when it had lost, pulled its branches back as far as it could.

Snape released the firestorm, flattening everything standing within fifty feet of himself. The trunk of the willow was smoking and black.

As the moonlight peeked around the cloudy sky, Hermione could see Snape survey the situation. Weasley was unconscious. Lupin was bleeding on the ground, gasping and wriggling. Hermione and Potter were both laying low and Black was down for the count.

Snape walked over and looked down at Hermione. "Up to the castle. Immediately."

Something snapped behind him. A growl. A wail.

Hermione looked up into the night sky, and saw that it wasn't as dark as it should have been. "The moon – the full moon!"

Lupin was convulsing. His limbs were changing shape. He was growing fur. In a matter of seconds, a fully grown werewolf was laying on his side, breathing heavily.

"Please tell me he's taken his Wolfbane…" Hermione whispered.

"Back to the castle," Snape said quietly. "Now."

Hermione gulped. She stood on shaky legs. Potter was getting up slowly as well, eyes fixed on the wolf. "What about Ron?"

" _Now_ ," Snape hissed through clenched teeth.

The wolf sat up. He licked his injured shoulder with a shudder.

"Leviosa," Hermione muttered to Potter. Together, they lifted the limp Weasley into the air and began to creep away.

The wolf looked their way and sniffed the air. Its ears perked up.

Snape moved parallel to the students, keeping himself between them and the wolf. The animal was standing now, eyes fixed on them. It took one step. Two.

It bolted. Straight at them. It leaped and took Snape's spell directly in the chest in midair and catapulted over them. Hermione and Potter ducked, losing concertation and dropping Ronald.

The wolf scrambled to its feet and charged again.

A black shape dove across Hermione's vision and intercepted the wolf.

Black had transformed back into the dog. And he was holding off Lupin. A jet of fire roared out of Snape's wand and the wolf jumped back. Black and Snape together were herding it down towards the forest, though Snape didn't seem to be trying to avoid singing the dog's fur.

Potter started levitating Weasley again. Hermione was about to help when something caught her eye in the moonlight.

A dark figure was crawling across the grass near the willow. Towards where Lupin transformed. Where Lupin's wand was.

It was Pettigrew.

Somewhere in the heat of the moment, Hermione had totally forgotten about him. He had woken and was about to escape. Hermione looked back. Snape was advancing down the slope, fire sprouting from his wand like a flamethrower. Black was there too. They wouldn't make it in time. Potter was busy with Weasley. It was down to her.

Hermione gripped her wand tight and ran after Pettigrew. He was stealing off back towards the willow.

" _Bombarda!_ " she shouted. It missed by a foot - clumps of dirt blasted into the air.

Pettigrew glanced back and started to sprint.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " cried Hermione as Pettigrew disappeared around the tree trunk.

She ran to the tree and looked around it. The hill sloped down drastically on the other side. And it was dark. Very dark.

She did not see Pettigrew laying rigid on the ground. She had missed. And it was almost impossible to see anything down the hill.

" _Lumos_ ," she whispered. That gave her a few more feet of vision. Not much. Hermione took a tentative step forward. If he was somewhere near, laying in ambush–

Hermione caught sight of a little blue light some distance down the slope. It began rising overhead, flickering like an iridescent butterfly. It soared over Hermione and landed on the trunk of the Whomping Willow.

In an instant, the blue orb expanded in a blinding light and deafening blast—

The sky was on fire.

Hermione blinked away the lights in her eyes but couldn't get rid of the ringing in her ears.

She was laying somewhere down the hill and all around her were little fires. Little bonfires. The sky had more stars now. Shooting stars. They were on fire too. And up the hill — up the hill was the best of all. The tree had a crown of flames now. The branches danced and swayed and burned.

Flaming stars were raining down on her. But she couldn't move. Her body wouldn't let her. It wasn't responding properly.

And that _ringing_. That _damned ringing_ wouldn't stop. She put a hand to her ear. The tips of her fingers came back wet and red. She tasted something metallic in her mouth. Was that blood, too?

She brought her other hand up to her face to find out, but her palm was already bloodstained. Hermione blinked. Confusion. Worry. With great effort, she craned her neck to look at herself. Something was in her body. Something that wasn't her was sticking out of her. She put her hand to her abdomen, curling it around the foreign object. She could feel the soaked cloth; she could make out the stain of blood on her shirt – and then the pain started.

Hermione was suddenly aware all too well that there was a spear of wood _inside_ her. Every movement, every breath, caused a surge of agony.

She tried to scream, but only blood bubbled out of her mouth. Hermione was losing blood – lots of blood – from everywhere and she couldn't stop any of it. The blood was no longer sticking to her hands, they were already soaked. It pooled around the wound. It coated the inside of her mouth. Dripped from her ears. There was too much blood everywhere but where it was supposed to be.

Hermione laid back and tried not to move. Every movement was torture. Every breath dared her to take more pain. It wouldn't stop. It would never stop. The world was ending. The stars were falling. The ground was on fire.

And Hermione was going to die.

There was no point.

Just stop breathing. Breathing makes you hurt. Breathing causes sorrow.

A shadow passed over her. She couldn't see the burning sky anymore.

The shadow moved. It wasn't a shadow. It was a shape. A definite shape. It had hands and a head and it was descending towards her.

The light was fading. She saw darkness. Only darkness. Hermione felt the cold grip her lungs. Her vision blurred. She saw a hand. A bloody hand. A bloody head. Was that her blood? She felt the breath leave her body.

She didn't need it.

She didn't need anything.

She could just let go…

Let go…

Let go…

And then the cold seeped away and air returned to her furious lungs. She saw the shadow blown away by a raging silver light – and then black.


	18. The Greatest Witch of her Century

**Chapter XVIII**

 **The Greatest Witch of her Century**

Hermione remembered the burning sky. She was being carried. Through the bonfires. Up the hill. Past the crowned tree. Soon she was inside, somewhere. There were stones here. A stony sky. Closer than before. No more shooting stars. No more stars.

She was vaguely aware of other people - if that was what they truly were. Shapes at the periphery of her vision. They moved quickly, too quickly for her to focus on. Now she was laying on something. Someone small and grey was over her. She felt something. Pressure. And then pain. She screamed and everything went black.

The next thing she remembered was the grey thing again. The small one. And the other gray one. It was bigger. And the black one. The black one was angry. They were speaking words. Arguing.

Then she was moving. A flash of green. Green fire. And everything changed.

There were whites. White someones. They replaced the grey and black. They were all around her. One pointed something at her – and black.

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Hermione saw light when she woke. White and bright. No fires.

She was in a bed. White sheets and white pillow.

A soft, rhythmic beeping sounded in the background. She could hear. That was pleasant.

Hermione moved her fingers. Then her toes. She lifted her arm and saw that there was a tube connected to her vein and a clamp on her finger.

She frowned a bit. That was out of place.

And so was the beeping.

Hermione tilted her head. The tube was connected to a clear bag hanging from a rack. And the beeping from a large box next to her bed with a screen showing a jagged line.

Her heartbeat.

Hermione recognized a hospital room. And not a magical one, either. _Interesting_ , she thought, but couldn't bring herself to ponder it further.

She pushed herself up into more of a sitting position. She was wearing one of those hospital gowns, too. Hermione noticed the bandages taped on her stomach. She remembered the spear.

"You gave us a fright, Miss Granger." Dumbledore was sitting in a chair on her right, sucking on a tube connected to an IV bag. He hadn't been there before, had he?

"I don't think you're supposed to be drinking that…" she murmured.

Dumbledore chuckled. "But it is very tasty. Perhaps I shall acquire one for the hospital wing at Hogwarts?"

Hermione blinked at him. She was tired. She wanted to sleep.

"In all seriousness, I am glad you are safe, Hermione," he pulled the tube out of his mouth. "This is the second year you have given us reason to worry."

"You should keep bad people out of Hogwarts," she said quietly.

He laughed again. "I couldn't have said it better myself. You are lucky. The last twelve people Peter Pettigrew used that curse on did not fare as well as you."

So he knew. "He got away?"

"He escaped, yes. What do you remember?"

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "I followed him. It was dark. I saw something… and then… fire."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Do you remember the Dementors?"

Hermione shook her head. "There weren't any Dementors."

He gave a small smile. "There were. Severus was near the Forbidden Forest when he heard the explosion. By the time he got to you, the Dementors had flocked over you. If he were half a minute late…" he trailed off, smile slipping. "But he wasn't. As it was, Severus was able to keep you stable until we got you to St. Mungos."

She took another look around the room. "We're…"

"This is not St. Mungos," he said. "The healers at Mungos are well versed in spell damage, cursed artifacts, animal attacks… but there was some debate as to how best to treat the residual physical trauma you suffered."

Hermione looked down at her abdomen. "They couldn't get the splinters out?"

"Magic is a tool," Dumbledore said softly. "It does not create miracles. It does not make one god. It has limitations. There were many methods that _might've_ worked for you, but you did not have the time for deliberation. The healers were able to stop the bleeding but there were, indeed, fragments on the Whomping Willow still inside of you. Severus informed me that your parents wished you to be entered into a Muggle hospital in the event of serious injury. I was told that… surgeons, are they called? I was told that surgeons are quite skilled at the type of operation you required. So, here we are."

Hermione closed her eyes. She was very tired.

"Hermione?" came Dumbledore's voice. "Hermione? I must ask you about what happened. Before you came out of the tunnel."

"I caught Black," she murmured.

She knew he had smiled when she heard his warm hum. "So you did. And you found someone else, too?"

"Pettigrew is a rat."

"Indeed. I do wish Remus had been honest with me. All this could have been avoided. Sirius…"

Hermione had settled into that position where everything she touched had adjusted to her temperature and was warm and cozy. She didn't want to move and ruin it all.

"Harry tells me that you kept him from following Sirius into the tunnel."

"It could've been a trap."

"Indeed. But you went yourself?"

"I'm good at saving Weasleys."

"You knew your classmate was in danger and needed help."

Hermione shrugged slightly. "I didn't really think about it. Snape will be angry at me."

He chuckled. "Severus was angry. And worried, though he might try to hide it. Can you tell me something?"

"Hmm?"

"I remember that you and the sorting hat had a long discussion. Can you tell me what he said to you?"

Hermione sighed. That was nearly three years ago. "Slytherin isn't evil."

"Indeed. And?"

She thought back on his words. "I don't have faith in others."

"Oh really?"

"Glory and knowledge and quoting _Roland_."

"Roland?"

"He was a stupid twit," she said automatically.

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. "Did he say anything about Godric?"

"He's going to curse the hat."

"Interesting."

Hermione nodded. "Very. How does one curse from beyond the grave?"

"I've often wondered if it was a mistake to sort students into different houses. Of course, it's a tradition. No one would stand for its destruction, but still…"

"Why?" she asked. Not to his last statement, but his general assertion. He seemed to understand.

"You are the prime example. You've been at Hogwarts for three years. Your behavior during these years, at different points, has been an exemplary example of not one but _three_ different houses. I wonder what is next from you."

"Exams, I suppose," said Hermione.

Dumbledore was quiet.

"What happened to Black?" Hermione asked. "Last I saw he was fighting a werewolf."

"Without Pettigrew as evidence, Minister Fudge was not willing to reconsider his position."

"So he's back in Azkaban."

Dumbledore hummed. "With everything that happened, Sirius Black was able to escape the Dementors and Hogwarts staff."

Hermione sighed. That had Dumbledore's fingerprints all over. Justice at its finest.

"I must ask you one more thing, Hermione."

"Shoot." She wanted to sleep now. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"Mister Weasley had something… disturbing to say."

"It comes with the name," she quipped.

"This is serious, Miss Granger. He said that you placed the Imperius Curse on Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew."

Hermione kept her eyes closed but her lips twitched. "Ronald doesn't like me."

"Remus tells me that Pettigrew showed signs of a failing Imperius."

Hermione tried keeping her breath level.

"As you should know, the Imperius Curse is… _unforgivable_."

"Murder is unforgivable."

"Indeed, but there are acts that are worse than killing another man."

"Can you Imperius a dead man, Professor?" Hermione peeked at him with one eye. He was frowning.

"Pettigrew is far from dead."

"But that's what he Ministry is saying? That Black is still guilty of betraying Potter's family, killing Pettigrew and all those Muggles?"

Dumbledore nodded

"What's the matter, then?"

"It matters, Miss Granger, because the use of such spells…"

"Is unforgivable?"

"Precisely."

"What's the difference between an Imperius and that curse that nearly blew me up? One has potential to kill and the other only controls actions."

"Miss Granger, magic is not just that which you can see. Pettigrew's curse has the potential to destroy your body."

"That's what killing is."

"There is more to the unforgivable curses than meets the eye."

Hermione shrugged. "Forgiveness only matters if I survive long enough to crave it."

Dumbledore considered her carefully. "You are a clever girl, Hermione, but you shouldn't presume to know everything already."

"I can't learn if I'm dead."

The Headmaster hummed. "I hope that you do learn. One more thing, Miss Granger."

Hermione closed her eyes again. "What is it?"

"I must request that you neglect to mention anything you learned tonight."

Her eyes opened at once. "Excuse me?"

"The story is that Sirius Black kidnapped Mister Weasley hoping to lure Harry in, but you went after him yourself. You got Mister Weasley out but Black followed you. Harry went to get Remus but, unfortunately, the full moon was out. Black escaped, but not before destroying a historical Whomping Willow and severely injuring you. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Severus… anything you gleaned from their words, interactions… You must not tell anyone."

"I don't understand."

"If it were known that Black has an animagus form, he may be tracked more easily. That Remus defended him against Severus… that two Hogwarts staff dueled each other. It is better that only a select few know."

"I still don't…"

"This information could be very damning if it fell into the wrong hands. For everyone. And not just for the sake of reputation."

"So, you want to hush everything up? Tell a lie to the world?"

"It is for the best, Hermione."

"Why do you need me to give _your_ story? Won't they believe you?"

"Continuity?" he posited.

Hermione peered up at him. His face was blank. "That's not it."

"Isn't it?"

"No, I think you are afraid of who _I_ might tell. Who might listen to _me_."

He tilted his head.

"Someone like Lucius Malfoy…"

"Lucius Malfoy does enjoy seeding sedition," Dumbledore nodded.

Hermione closed her eyes again. She really wanted to sleep. "What do I get out of it?"

"The goodwill of your Headmaster?" Dumbledore hummed. "Perhaps not." He took a minute to think on it. "I am willing to come to an arrangement."

"Like?"

"What would be acceptable?"

"I don't know what you can offer."

"Miss Granger, I was born a hundred years ago and am considered the greatest wizard of the century. What _can't_ I offer?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Will you teach me how?"

"Teach you what?"

She looked into his blue eyes. "I told the sorting hat I wanted to be the best. Can you teach me how? How to become the greatest witch of _m_ _y_ century?"

"I think we can work something out," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I shall contact you over the summer, but our lessons will have to wait until next year. In the meantime, I'd like to congratulate you on saving no less than three lives. Which brings you up to… six, I believe?" He beamed.

The door opened and two men walked in. Hermione recognized one of them as Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. "Ah, Miss Granger," he said. "I hope to find you well?" He was a plump man, a smile adorning his face that was not quite sincere.

Hermione looked back to Dumbledore, but he was gone. The chair was empty.

"I…I think so," she said, turning back.

"This is an odd place, isn't it?" said Fudge, taking a look around the room. "Very particular about who they let in, too. Almost had to try a memory charm on one of those nurses." Hermione looked to the other man. He was grotesque. His face bore many scars and one eye was jiggling around, held in place by a leather strap.

"They're Muggles," the man grumbled. "Don't expect extravagance or civility."

"Indeed, Alastor," Fudge conceded, taking a seat in Dumbledore's chair. "Miss Granger, this is Alastor Moody, one of my most trusted aurors. We'd like to ask a few questions of you, if you're up to it."

Hermione looked from the faux-genial face of Fudge to the intimidating grimace on Moody. "I suppose."

"Excellent. Firstly, I'd like your account of the evening of the… Twenty-sixth, was it?"

"Twenty-fifth," Moody said in a gravelly voice.

"Yes, precisely, Alastor. Now, Miss Granger, your classmates say that it all started in the library?"

Hermione nodded.

"That your cat had some sort of… row with Mister Weasley's rat?"

"I guess." Hermione didn't want to deal with any of this. She was tired.

"So the three of you pursued onto the grounds. What next?"

"There was a dog…" Hermione started, but was interrupted by a cough from Moody.

"Apologies, Minister," the auror said.

Fudge waved him away. "A dog?"

"It… it scared Crookshanks away."

"Crookshanks?"

"My cat," she said. "I was about to go after him when… when Black showed up. He took Weasley into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow."

"Indeed. What next?"

Hermione wasn't quite sure how the story was supposed to go, so she decided to go as close to the truth as possible. "Potter wanted to go after him, but I knew Black was really trying to get to him."

"So you went after him instead?" Fudge interrupted. "Quite brave of you."

Hermione shrugged. "Black wouldn't have expected me. He didn't. I got Weasley on his feet and out of the willow. Black followed. When we got out, Potter had brought Lupin. He and Black fought, then Lupin…"

"The werewolf," Fudge nodded. "I must say I do not understand what Dumbledore was thinking."

Hermione couldn't have agreed more. "Then Professor Snape showed up. He fought off the werewolf and Black slipped away. I went after him… and then… I don't quite remember."

"You don't remember anything after that?" Fudge asked, on the edge of his seat.

Hermione shook her head. "Only fire."

"Nothing about thrice-damned demons?" Moody barked.

Fudge bounced in his seat. "Alastor! No need to frighten the child. I can tell she is still shaken up."

Moody snorted, but did not say any more.

"This has been very informative, Miss Granger. I must express my deepest sympathies for your injuries and pledge that Black _will_ be brought to justice."

Hermione gave a fake smile as the door opened again. A tall blonde witch burst in. "Hermione," she said. "My dear, you had us so worried!"

"Narcissa," Fudge coughed. "Dear me, I wasn't expecting you, here, of all places!"

"Cornelius," she nodded, moving to Hermione's side and seizing her hand. "Good to see you too. But I really think we ought to let Hermione rest."

"Indeed, indeed," Fudge blubbered, standing quickly. "I think I have everything I need. Miss Granger, if you do ever need anything, don't hesitate to call. Alastor?" The old auror grumbled and limped after him. Only when they had passed back through the door did Hermione notice Professor Snape, who had slipped in quietly. He held the door for a second and then let it close.

"Hermione," Narcissa said, squeezing her hand. "How are you?"

She shrugged. "I was stabbed by a chunk of an insane tree."

Narcissa laughed. "Your sense of humor wasn't damaged, I can see."

Hermione smiled weakly. "I don't keep my humor in my intestines."

Narcissa stroked Hermione's cheek with her knuckles. "Poor baby. How could you let this happen, Severus?"

Snape sniffed. "The girl is turning into a menace. I cannot count the warnings –"

"Severus, you were her age once. And I remember quite clearly the corners you got yourself into," Narcissa frowned at him.

Hermione watched Snape quiver. "I _told_ her –"

"Just don't let it happen again," Narcissa said. After a moment, Snape nodded. "I am glad you got to Hermione, in the end. The healers at Saint Mugnos say you did well. I think they're still a bit peeved you decided to pursue teaching."

"Working with children is just _so_ rewarding," he sneered and Narcissa bit back a smile.

"Some are," she said, giving Hermione's hand another squeeze.

"How long…?" Hermione asked.

"You've been in and out for a couple days," Narcissa said. "But everything is fine now. No need to worry about anything."

Hermione held Narcissa's soft hand in her fingers. She closed her eyes. She was tired. But she was safe. She knew that. Narcissa was there. Snape was there. No one was going to hurt her. Not anymore.

Narcissa caressed her face. "Sleep, my dear. You deserve it. I'm so proud of you."


	19. Tweed in Summer

**Chapter XIX**

 **Tweed in Summer**

Draco was visibly relieved to see her return, but something was off between them, and had been for a few weeks. Hermione didn't know what to make of it. Their relationship had reverted to what it had been before the winter holidays, except… different. There was always a sort of tension in the air when they were alone.

They ignored it. Ran the clock out until the end of term and they were on the Hogwarts Express heading to London. Halfway through the trip, Hermione decided they needed to talk before going their separate ways. She took him into the hallway.

"Draco, I need to know what's going on."

"What's going on?" said Draco.

Hermione nodded. "Between us."

"What about us?"

Hermione sighed. "Come on, Draco. Something's wrong. Talk to me."

Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Nothing's wrong."

"Are we not…" she began, not quite sure how to voice her worries. "Don't you want…"

"You're the one who got cross at me," said Draco.

"You've been –" Well, maybe they both had been confused. And the whole incident with Pettigrew and Black – and Draco didn't know about Pettigrew, she had stuck to Dumbledore's story. After returning from the hospital, he could have been worried she blamed him for it all – Black being a cousin of sorts to him – however he convinced himself of that. So perhaps it would be best for bluntness. "If I'm going to be your girlfriend, you can't be off doing things with other girls. I won't stand for it."

"I'm not off with other girls –"

"So what've you been doing with Daphne?" Hermione cut in. "You've been getting very friendly with her. And you haven't before."

"Definitely not _things_ ," he insisted. "We've only worked on essays and homework. You've been solitary, and Daphne isn't too bad at school stuff, either."

"You seemed to be enjoying it," she crossed her arms. "More than when you work with me."

"You're serious about school. Too serious. Daphne is…"

"Prettier?" she offered, watching him closely.

He made a face. "Come on, Hermione. You're not like that. Don't be like Pansy."

"I'm like Pansy now?" Hermione exclaimed.

"No. You're not. I'm not hanging out with Daphne because she's prettier than you, so don't think that."

"Then why?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Because my father wants me to."

"Why?"

"Things are different, now. Complicated."

"How so?"

"My father… and her father… they're… working together. They want Daphne and I to get to know each other."

Hermione looked out the window. The bright, green country was streaking past them at lightning speed. "What does that mean for us?"

He shrugged, and said softly, "I don't know."

This was getting so confusing. Never in a thousand years would Hermione have guessed that she'd be spending her trip home trying to sound out some sort of relationship with a boy. It just was not her priority. Perhaps her father was right. Maybe she should wait ten or twenty years. God knows how much more work she could get done without any distractions. "What do you want?"

"What?"

Hermione looked him in the eye. "You're my best friend. If you were happier as things were?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't know."

"Okay then." She dropped her eyes to the floor.

"No, I mean… I was happier when things weren't as complicated. I know I want you, Hermione."

"I don't want things to be confusing. I need you to tell me what we are so I can understand. If you just want to be friends, I'm okay with that. I just need to know."

"No, I don't want to be just friends."

"You want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Good," said Hermione. "That means you're my boyfriend, and _my_ boyfriend doesn't do _things_ with other girls."

"Would never cross my mind."

 **I-I. ⌡. Γ┐**

Tweed in summer. He really needed to stop.

Hermione's father was waiting at King's Cross, just like every year. He smiled and took her trunk and they walked out together to the blue sedan.

Nine months was a long time to be away. Hermione wasn't really sure why they had argued the previous summer. She knew her parents only wanted to protect her. But they really didn't understand too much about her world.

The small car was hot and stuffy, and sapped all of Hermione's energy. Or maybe that was the injury. There was a jagged scar along her abdomen, as well as countless little cuts all over her body. The doctors said they had gotten everything and Hermione would recover fully, but she would fatigue easily for a few weeks. She had certainly slept more. Nonetheless, she couldn't wait to pick out a good book, prop herself up under the tree in their yard, and read for hours with a nice, cool breeze running over her skin. Simple, relaxing, and with no chance of running into a murderous terrorist. Exactly what the doctor ordered.

They sat in silence most of the way home. Her father was more understanding than Helen. Her mother would have demanded explanations by now. "How were classes?", "I expect you received top marks?", "You didn't write to us". Well, Hermione did receive top marks. But she had also almost died, so that put things into perspective. Not that she wanted her parents to know about that if they hadn't already been told. And something made her think they hadn't.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said as they were entering Watford.

"For what?" said her father.

Hermione shrugged and watched cars pass the other direction. "Last year. I was kind of a brat."

Her father grunted. "You don't have to apologize. We all could have handled things better."

"I ruined your holiday. Mum's holiday."

"She wasn't very pleased, but you come first."

"I shouldn't have acted like a child."

"You are a child, Hermione. We forget that as much as you do."

"I'm not a child, dad," she sighed. _I've killed a man_.

"You're our little girl until you move out. And then you'll continue to be our girl until we say so."

Hermione snorted. "I'll be fifteen at the end of summer."

"We can revisit the topic when you're thirty, but I shouldn't think you'll make much headway." He was joking. Probably.

"I shouldn't have acted like a child."

Hermione watched Vicarage Road roll by out the window. No one would be playing there for a few months. And she'd be gone before they really got going again. She missed watching games there when she was younger. The atmosphere, the game... it was simple. Watford did good, you cheer. The other guys did good, you boo. You always have a good time.

"I know you hold yourself to a higher standard," said her father, "but you really have to give yourself some slack. Your mother expects the world from you, and I do too, but it's okay to take a break."

"I know," said Hermione.

"You shouldn't burn yourself out with your studies."

"I know."

"Seven years in one school can be daunting. Especially with it being, you know... different. I can imagine it may get intimidating. Or repetitive. I don't know what it's like, but you should really find some time to just be yourself."

"There are creatures that can suck your soul out through your mouth, dad," she said as they pulled into their driveway.

They keys jingled as her father turned the car off.

"You can't see them, because you're not a wizard," she said, turning to him. "But they're there. They feed on your fear and emotions. And if they're close enough, they can suck your soul out through your mouth."

Her father stared at her with a frown.

"You shouldn't worry, because they're kept at the wizard prison, but I do worry."

"If I shouldn't worry, why should you?"

"Because I'm a witch. Because they are disturbing. And because I'm terrified of what happens when I'm not ready for something."

"You're more prepared for anything than any other girl in the world, Hermione," her father said with a small smile, but Hermione shook her head.

"Not nearly enough."

They sat in the car for several minutes. It was hot. She knew her skin would stick to the leather seat when she got out. But it was nice to sit with her father. To pretend that everything would be okay if he was there with her. Like it used to be. Before everything. Before magic. Back when her dad was the most capable man in the world. Her protector. Her mentor. Her father.

"Your mother and I got you a gift," he said at last. "Well, your mother thought it might be a good idea. I got it for you." He reached into the back seat and pulled out a wide, flat box and handed it to her.

"What is it?"

"Just open it."

She lifted the lid off.

Inside was a yellow jersey with black stripes. A Watford jersey.

"They got a new kit this year. Thought you'd like it."

Hermione lifted it out of the box. Her last Watford jersey was old, too small, and probably catching dust somewhere in the attic. "I do like it."

"Got it with Gary Porter's name. He had a good season."

"How'd we do? The Daily Prophet doesn't have a football section." On the other side of the jersey was the bold name **PORTER**.

"Kind of crap. Didn't get relegated, though."

'Kind of crap' was not as much of an insult as it sounded. Her father was proud of 'kind of crap'. Nothing like supporting a mediocre team to prove your loyalty. Not like the Scousers up north who supported Liverpool just because they take home the silverware. Glory-hunters. Band-wagoners. This was the one thing which Hermione didn't mind not winning. Five-hundred and forty professional teams in England, and Hermione shared one with her father. Being a bit crap wasn't much of a price for that.

"Thanks, dad," she said, tracing the outline of the Watford badge. "Wish I saw a game with you."

* * *

 **Gary Porter, Watford's player of the year for 1993-1994.**

 **That's it for year 3. Thanks to all of you for reading and sticking with me.**

 **Final score: 19 chapters, 58,847 words.**

 **Book 4, Chapter 1 is up, but expect a delay on updates. I want to take a month to rejuvenate, really nail down and polish the story and get ready for book 5. I should begin posting regularly around mid-September.**


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